Once More Into The Breach
by aliasfluffyone
Summary: Why does Silky owe the boys? The boys' first trip to San Francisco. Will the town ever be the same? The return of some favorite characters, a few new ones, and manikins, lots of manikins. c Mar-Oct1876
1. Splittin' Up?

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Once More Into The Breach c1876

Chapter 1: Splittin' Up?

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Kyle," called Heyes, "why are you stopping?"

"Loo… looky there," exclaimed Kyle, teeth chattering, gloved hand shaking as he pointed.

Wheat, followed by Preacher, reached the crest of the ridge and reined in beside the littlest member of the Devil's Hole Gang. Wind whistled through the air as Heyes joined the men. The mastermind's dark brown eyes narrowed at the unwelcome sight below. The talk they'd heard in Wildwood appeared to be true.

"That's gotta be General Crook and his men," declared Wheat in a sour tone.

"How many men do you suppose is down there?" asked Preacher.

Beneath his rounded black hat, the outlaw's ashen face was nearly as white as the light snow dusting the hill. The army column below stretched in a dark twisting, turning line parallel to the ice coated river. Cavalry, infantry, supply wagons, horses pulling Gatling guns and more, snaked northward.

"Six, maybe seven hundred, at least," estimated Wheat.

A fifth man arrived at the hilltop in time to hear Wheat's words. Lobo scrunched his shoulders and sank down into his saddle as if trying to hide from the cold wind. The wild haired outlaw tugged his hat down lower over his forehead and pulled a woolen muffler up over his hard frown.

"More," growled Lobo.

The oldest of the outlaw gang reached the summit. Clarence Jones' white nosed horse seemed older than the man himself. The animal blew hard, its breath steaming the air. The uphill trek drained the strength of both man and beast.

"Heyes, my joints is aching somethin' fierce," grumbled Clarence in a crotchety tone. "I know you said getting an early start this season would give us the benefit of surprise, but if we get caught out in a blizzard, the surprise will be on us."

"We're not gonna get caught out in a blizzard," assured the shrewd Kansan. Heyes gestured to the men below. "Although they might."

Dark eyes searched behind the genial old reprobate for the last member of their gang. Midway up the hill, a tall blond walked his horse. The gang rode abreast on the stage road for the first few miles after leaving Wildwood this morning. It wasn't until they turned off the road that the gang switched to riding single file. The riders rotated positions as they crossed the unmarked snow, all except one. Heyes watched Kid's laborious uphill climb as he brushed an aspen branch over the traces of their passage, blurring the hoof prints. Would it be enough so that to the casual glance of a passerby the trampled snow might be mistaken for markings left by deer or a wolf pack?

"Back up," ordered Heyes. "It will be awhile before Kid gets here and we don't want to attract the army's attention."

Hooves shuffled as the Devil's Hole Gang hunkered down to wait for the man who watched all their backs.

"Kid," greeted Heyes when his partner finally reached the waiting gang, "we're almost a mile from the road. I think you can let the wind do the rest of that job while we ride the ridgeline south."

"I thought we were gonna go over the ridgeline where nobody can see our tracks…"

Kid's words trailed off. His blue eyes widened as he took in the scene below. The partners exchanged a look.

"Change of plans, we don't want to follow the Powder River," replied Heyes. "It looks like the bartender in Wildwood was right about what the army is doing."

"Good thing we never made it to Montana," stated Kid. "Or we'd be right in their way.

Heyes pressed his lips in a tight grimace that could hardly be called a smile. Five years ago Kid and Heyes had left Texas full of dreams. The reference to the partner's one time plan to raise horses in Montana had long since been overcome by harsh reality.

"I wouldn't want to be a Cheyenne right now," declared Wheat.

"Or a Lakota," quavered Kyle.

"Or a soldier," added Preacher in a glum tone.

"Living in a war zone ain't safe for anybody," declared Kid. "Not even for outlaws."

"Come on," urged Heyes. "Kyle, get back with Kid, spell your horse."

The slender man pulled the reins turning his sorrel south. Moving past Wheat and Preacher, Heyes' resumed the lead position. Less than two weeks after Kid and Heyes returned to Devil's Hole from their journey through Colorado, Arizona and Utah, the gang was on the move. Necessity drove them. The last of the gang's winter supplies couldn't handle two more mouths. An overnight stop in Wildwood and a perusal of newspapers since last December hatched the crazy scheme for their next job.

"There's an abandoned farmhouse two miles from here. We'll stay there tonight," added Heyes. "Tomorrow we can follow the trail south. We'll be in Casper before nightfall."

"Yeah!" exclaimed Kyle. "And then we'll show them folks what a real Devil's Hole Gang robbery is really like!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes rolled over on his side. Hay rustled. Sleepy brown eyes blinked open, he smacked his lips. Kid sat beside the fire. The circle of stones taken from the farmhouse's fallen down chimney outlined a crude circle in the center of the barn. Men and horses both snuffled in the early morning light. Steam rose from the coffee pot as Kid poured a cup of the dark beverage. He held the cup out towards Heyes.

"Thanks," murmured Heyes. The safecracker sat up and took the cup. He sniffed, then sipped. "Mmm, best wake the others up."

"Might as well let them sleep," objected Kid.

"We need to get moving."

"Heyes, we ain't going anywhere today," declared Kid. "Storm reached us last night. There's at least a foot of snow outside and it's still blowing."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Kyle," hissed Wheat in annoyance. "Do you hafta…"

"Well now Wheat," responded the smaller man, "four days of eating nothing but bean soup and hardtack is gonna have an effect."

"Sssh," ordered Heyes. "I can't hear the tumblers."

Heyes turned back to the shining new safe. Although he'd like to blame Wheat and Kyle's chatter, Heyes knew that there was something different about the Pierce and Hamilton 1875. The tumblers were quieter. Was he starting to lose his hearing? Or his touch? Or was it something else? Slender fingers spun the dial around. Best to start over. He leaned in close. Kid stuck his head through the bank's rear window.

"No one's about," determined Kid. "It's like the whole town decided to stay inside where it's warm. How much longer?"

"Depends on how many interruptions I get," snapped Heyes.

Twenty minutes later, Heyes smiled as the heavy black gilt trimmed door opened.

"Wheat, Kyle," called Heyes in a relieved tone.

The two outlaws stuffed money into empty carpet bags. When Wheat and Kyle were done, Heyes laid a piece of paper inside. The note looked lonely in the empty safe. Monday morning the folks of the Casper Independent Bank and Trust would find out they'd been robbed. Confusion over who had robbed the Casper payroll last December remained, despite their best efforts to convince folks it hadn't been Kid Curry, Hannibal Heyes and the Devil's Hole Gang. However, there would be no confusion over who robbed the bank on Friday night March 10, 1876.

"Maybe now you'll believe us," murmured Heyes as he closed the door and spun the dial.

The sassy note read: _Mighty nice bank you got here. Just so you know, Kid Curry, Hannibal Heyes and the Devil's Hole Gang rob banks and trains. We don't rob wagons. See you again soon._

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes mounted his horse. He flashed a bright grin at the gang. Moonlight shone on the slushy, brown snow that edged the streets of Casper. The heavily trampled road southwards would eventually take them to Cheyenne.

"Now single file, stay in between the wagon tracks so no one can separate out our tracks," declared Heyes. "With any luck we'll be in Cheyenne before anyone knows we robbed the bank."

Nods of agreement were accompanied by muffled grunts as cold men pulled up mufflers around their faces. It wasn't until the gang passed the front of the bank that Heyes heard anyone speak.

"Heyes, what's a subsidiary?" called Kid.

Kid pointed to the ornate gold and black lettering on the front window: Casper Independent Bank and Trust, a subsidiary of the Wells Fargo Bank.

"Well Kid," answered Heyes, "it means that the Casper bank ain't quite so independent. They're owned by the Wells Fargo Bank."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"What do you mean you're out?" asked Heyes. The dark haired man laid his book down on the sofa. "We just got to Denver three days ago and you had a hundred dollars spending money when we left Cheyenne!"

"Well now Heyes…"

"Ssssh," hissed Heyes. Twisting and turning his head, Heyes scanned to see how if anyone in the lobby was within hearing range. "Newton, remember, I'm Timothy Newton."

The scruffy smaller man tilted his head sideways and looked confused. From his seat in the overstuffed chair opposite Heyes, Kyle leaned across the small table and lowered his voice obediently.

"I thought you was Hannibal Heyes," whispered Kyle.

"I am but…," Heyes shook his head.

While the hotel clerk probably knew the gang members weren't the ranchers they claimed to be, Heyes didn't want his real name bandied about. The note in the Casper bank had done its job all too well.

"Even with that funny lookin' get up," added Kyle.

"This suit is not funny looking," hissed Heyes.

The black suit, white button down dress shirt, and a collar starched so stiff as to make it difficult to turn his head, was supposed to make Heyes look like a prosperous cattleman out on the town. Kid's gibe that the suit made him look more like a telegraph clerk still stung. His easygoing partner had elected to look like a less prosperous rancher with a good new pair of brown leather boots.

"In Denver, I'm Newton and Kid is Orville Weston," reminded Heyes.

The Wells Fargo Bank had taken great exception to its Casper subsidiary being robbed. Since the bank's board of directors didn't know the names of everyone in the Devil's Hole Gang, they'd had to settle on raising the reward money on the gang's two most prominent members. Two thousand dollars was a lotta money, so Heyes and Curry moved the gang south again, into Colorado.

"I don't think Miss Priscilla knows Kid is Orville Weston," stated Kyle, "she keeps calling him sugar."

"That's alright Kyle," soothed Heyes. He would deal with Kid and Miss Priscilla later. "Now tell me, how are you out of money already?"

The litany of Kyle's expenses over the past seventy-two hours left Heyes rolling his eyes.

"Go back to your room," ordered the tactical genius. "Stay there!"

"But…,"

"And if Wheat or Lobo or Preacher or Clarence show up," added Heyes, "tell them to stay there too."

Heyes picked up his book and went in search of his partner. The news about the army's movements hadn't improved. The gang wasn't going back to Devil's Hole anytime soon and at the rate money was slipping through their fingers they couldn't stay in Denver much longer. They needed to make plans. He rapped on the door to Kid's room. Silence. Heyes tried the knob. The room was unlocked.

"Kid," called Heyes softly as he pushed the door open. "You really shouldn't leave your door…"

Kid wasn't in his room. Heyes went back downstairs. Kid wasn't in the hotel restaurant. With a long suffering sigh, Heyes braced himself and started towards the ladies parlor, but the front doors to the lobby swung wide open and Kid walked in carrying some papers in one hand.

"Where have you been?" demanded Heyes.

"Huh?" Kid's broad smile faded.

"I've been looking for you," snapped Heyes. He pointed towards the staircase. "We have to talk."

"Yeah, we do," agreed Kid in a mild tone as he followed his partner upstairs.

Heyes withdrew the room key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock. A quick twist, a push and he strode inside leaving the door swinging. Heyes stopped in front of the bay window overlooking the street. He didn't turn around until he heard the door click shut. Heyes wheeled on his partner.

"Where have you been?"

"The telegraph office," answered Kid. His partner looked puzzled. "Heyes what's wrong? Why do you sound so angry?"

"Angry? Me?" Heyes threw up his hands and stalked across the room waving his arms every step of the way. "Lots of reasons! The US Army is running all over our territory! The reward for our capture has just doubled. The money we got from the Casper job isn't gonna last long at the rate Kyle keeps buying peppermint sticks…"

"Peppermint sticks?

"Forty-three dollars' worth of peppermint sticks," answered Heyes. "He mighta bought more, but he'd already spent forty-five dollars on dynamite, five dollars on blasting caps, two dollars on a bath and a shave…"

Heyes' voice trailed off. Kid's eyebrows went up.

"And five dollars personal expenses," answered Heyes.

Heyes slumped down in the straight back chair by the writing table. He rested his elbows against his knees and stared at the floor.

"And when all the money's gone, there may not be any more," sighed Heyes. "I couldn't open the Denver Merchant's Bank even if I tried."

"We ain't robbing the Denver Merchant's Bank," reminded Kid. "It's too close to where Clem lives."

Heyes looked up at his partner. Kid's blue eyes gazed back at him. The muscular blond held up the papers in his hand and waved them at Heyes.

"Of course if you ever did want to rob the Denver Merchant's Bank, it might be best to get a first-hand look at their new equipment," smiled Kid.

"What?"

"You been complainin' about all the fancy new safes ever since we left Casper," reminded Kid. "So I found out where the Pierce and Hamilton safe company is located."

"You did?"

Heyes was surprised. He didn't think Kid, or anyone else in the gang, had listened to his complaints about the Pierce and Hamilton 1875 he'd opened in Casper. Only he knew how very lucky he'd been to get the darn fool thing open. A smile spread across his face at the thought of seeing how a lockbox like that was put together.

"Where?"

"The company is based in Connecticut," answered Kid, he flashed the papers beneath Heyes' nose, "but they're doing some sort of industrial expositions for the Centennial celebration, and you can go see one of their newest safes up close and personal like in either Boston, Chicago or San Francisco."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Does everybody understand the plan?" asked Heyes.

At the far end of the private dining room, Kid's watchful blue eyes also took in everyone's reaction. The partners had been over the details twice already. Wheat frowned. Clarence looked down the long dining table at Heyes and shook his head. Lobo grunted, a sound that could be taken as agreement or not. Preacher picked up his shot glass and downed a gulp of whisky without saying anything. Kyle tilted his head sideways, still looking perplexed.

"Is you jus' funnin'? For April Fool's?" asked Kyle.

The partners exchanged a glance. Blue eyes rolled in wordless agreement. Heyes started once more, maybe the third explanation would sink in.

"No, you heard Kid. He's right, times are changing," repeated Heyes. "We got off to an early start this season, so we've got money to afford a little research."

"Research!" snorted Wheat. "Is that what you call sendin' us to _get jobs_ building the new railroad tracks to Poncha Springs while you and Kid go galavantin' off to San Francisco?"

Brown eyes narrowed. For a moment, Heyes looked angry at Wheat's challenge, but then he leaned back in his chair. The master planner flashed a dangerous smile.

"You didn't mind me working in the bank in Lowell last Spring," chided Heyes. "I seem to recall that bit of research paid off rather well. And Kid and I will be working too."

"We got a good haul outta Lowell," agreed Wheat, "but we nearly didn't get away."

"The sheriff seeing us on the way out of town wasn't Heyes' fault," declared Kid in a low, hard tone. "Security is my concern, and you know it."

"Ain't saying it was anyone's fault," replied Wheat hastily. "Just sayin' sometimes things don't go according to plan."

"Yeah," chimed in Kyle. "Like the blizzard slowing us down on our way to Casper."

"Nobody controls the weather," reminded Heyes. "We couldn't rob the bank Sunday night like we originally planned, so we adjusted the plan and waited until Friday night to rob the bank."

The clever tactician looked around the wide oak table and decided to try another approach.

"This is a job, like any other, and…," began Heyes.

"It's different from when you went to research the job in Lowell," objected Wheat.

"Wheat," growled Kid.

Wheat sank down in his chair. Heyes raised a slender hand, shaking his head in dismissal.

"No, it's alright, I want to hear everyone's ideas, but one at a time," continued Heyes. He directed his gaze to the older man seated on the other side of his partner. "Clarence, you shook your head. Why? What don't you like about the plan?"

The sturdy man leaned back in his chair. Wrinkle creases around his eyes deepened as Clarence regarded Heyes. It was a moment before the gray haired man spoke.

"Poundin' rails ain't a job for a fella like me, it's a job for a younger man," replied the aging outlaw.

"Well I was thinkin' you might get a job that's not so hard on the back, maybe as a cook," replied Heyes.

Clarence's snort, and mingled groans from the other men stopped the Kansan.

"Nobody likes my cookin', not even me," reminded Clarence with a wry grin. "And if you and Kid are going to San Francisco, what's gonna happen to your horses?"

Heyes had telegraphed his old friend Silky O'Sullivan to ensure that he and Kid would be able to obtain advance admission tickets to the Pierce and Hamilton industrial expo. Silky's carefully worded response let them know that tickets to the May demonstration, and more, would be available in San Francisco.

"Wouldn't it be better if I took your horses back to Devil's Hole?" continued Clarence.

"No," objected Kid before Heyes could respond. "Going back to Wyoming right now is too dangerous."

Clarence's raised eyebrows left Heyes wondering if the canny outlaw had heard the same reports about the army's movements that Curry and Heyes had heard.

"You don't need to worry about me. It ain't easy to track one man by himself," reminded Clarence. "I can take the horses and get back to the Hole jus' fine."

Kid looked ready to argue, but Heyes shook his head. He pointed at the next man.

"Lobo?"

The wild haired outlaw pushed his plate away from him and slouched back against his chair with a frown.

"San Francisco is a long ways off," grumbled Lobo.

"Going there is better than Chicago or Boston, and we know folks in San Francisco," reminded Heyes. "Preacher, what about you?"

Preacher looked oddly vulnerable without his big floppy black hat.

"I don't like you working for Silky," answered the gaunt man.

Heyes pursed his lips. Preacher had met Silky before and the two didn't see eye to eye. At the end of the table, a self-satisfied smile spread across Kid's face. His partner hadn't liked that part of the plan either.

"The main reason we're going to San Francisco is to see the Pierce and Hamilton presentation at the industrial expo the first week of May," reminded Heyes. "Learning how the Pierce and Hamilton tumblers turn so smooth is something I've got to know if we want to stay in business."

"Yeah, but…," began Preacher.

"And just 'cause Silky offered us a job while we're there doesn't mean we're gonna take it," soothed Heyes, speaking as much to Kid as to Preacher. "We don't even know what kind of job Silky is planning."

Heyes turned to the small man seated between himself and Wheat. The dynamite specialist still looked upset.

"It sure sounds like we's splittin' up," sighed Kyle in a disconsolate tone.

"No, we're not splitting up," reassured Heyes. "We're just not working together for the next month or so, probably six weeks at the most."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The last of the details, telegrams to keep in touch, were arranged. Chairs scuffed back from the table, followed by footsteps. Kid came to stand beside Heyes as the gang filed out of the dining room. Wheat's boastful words carried down the corridor, _"Don't forget, I'm in charge!"_

"Kid," smirked Heyes, "I think they've finally got it."

"No tellin' what kinda trouble they're gonna get into without us watching out for them," frowned the youngest member of the gang. "Especially with Wheat in charge."

"They're grown men Kid, they'll be fine," reminded Heyes. "And if anything goes wrong, we'll come break 'em outta jail."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	2. Arrivals and Acquaintances

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Once More Into The Breach c1876

Chapter 2: Arrivals and Acquaintances

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"You don't look too good Kid," observed Heyes.

Kid's elbows rested on the ferry boat railing. His head hung over the side, blue eyes closed against the sight of the choppy blue-green bay. The boat was crowded with dayworkers and people like themselves that transferred from the railroad to the ferry for the last segment of their trip. The curly blond head came up. Kid cast a baleful gaze at his partner.

"Says the man that looks like a crumpled up telegraph operator," objected Kid.

Heyes' lips curled up in a smirk. His partner had a point. The distinguished looking black suit that Heyes wore had not held up well for travelling purposes. The starched collar had long since wilted in the sweltering train compartment and the white shirt was no longer pristine. In contrast, Kid's blue jeans and red Henley still appeared as neat as when they boarded the train in Denver.

"I thought you said the train was the fastest way to get to San Francisco?" groused Kid. "Remind me again why we're on this boat?"

"This is my first trip to San Francisco too," soothed Heyes. "You would think that the railroad folks in Denver mighta mentioned that the tracks ended in Oakland."

Rudely awakened by a shout of _"end of the line"_ on this early April morning,the partners joined the throng of people trudging the two miles from the railroad tracks to the pier for the waiting ferry. Private carriages parked near the station were a luxury for the privileged few. The bright white side-wheel ferry moved briskly across the bay, churning the brackish waters.

"The _Washoe_ is the fastest means to get from Oakland to San Francisco," added Heyes.

"Can't get to dry land fast enough," muttered Kid.

"Third class tickets let us blend in with other travelers," continued Heyes with a rueful grin, "but the way the railroad kept shunting the regular passenger cars off on side tracks to make way for the express trains added four days to the trip."

The boat lurched. Kid's face took on a color that rivaled the waters below and he leaned over the railing again. Heyes winced in sympathy.

"Riverboats don't have this effect on you," mused Heyes.

"The river doesn't move in so many different directions," grumbled Kid between dry heaves. "This stuff is going every which way."

"I thought you were gonna quit looking at the water!"

Kid closed his blue eyes again. The older Kansan turned to look westward. Soft tendrils of fog clung to the approaching shoreline, slowly dissipating as the sun rose above the mountains behind them. The dark haired man pursed his lips, trying to think of a way to help his partner.

"There's an empty bench over by the pilot-house," suggested Heyes. "Would you feel better if you sat down?"

"We've been sittin' ever since we left Denver," reminded Kid. Big hands clasped the railing, hips swayed in an attempt to balance against the ferry's motion. "I think I'd rather stand."

"The bench seats on the train were hard," agreed Heyes.

"Just be thankful you didn't have Mrs. Osgood sticking her elbow in your ribs," groused Kid.

The partners were lucky to find two spaces in the same carriage. The Osgood family, Mr. and Mrs. Osgood and a vast quantity of children ranging in age from infant in arms to flirtatious adolescent, hailed from Cincinnati Ohio. Other travelers in the crowded third class compartments came from even further distances.

"It wasn't any better on my side of the aisle," reminded Heyes with a chuckle. "Giovanni tried to talk my ears off."

The newly married emigrant practiced his English on Heyes, while his pretty dark eyed wife listened intently.

"Like you're talking my ears off now?" asked Kid.

Heyes' lips curled up in a smirk. Keeping Kid's mind off the choppy water seemed to have a positive effect. Since they were seated on opposite sides of the railcar, the partners hadn't really had a chance to talk much during the trip. The crafty man continued.

"Did you hear that salesman?"

"Which one? There were two of them fighting."

"The tipsy, older guy, Jake Smithers," answered Heyes. "The younger man, Joseph Neill, didn't start the ruckus."

"Sure looked like he ended it though," commented Kid. "What did Smithers do?"

"Offered me a job."

"What?"

"Smithers thinks a fine upstanding American such as myself would be just the sort to sell Sholes and Glidden typewriters," answered Heyes. Pitching his voice to sound like the disagreeable salesman, Heyes imitated the man. "Unlike those Eye-talians and the lazy Micks."

"Smithers said that?" growled Kid.

"Yeah, that's when I introduced myself as Timothy O'Malley," smiled Heyes, dimples deepening. "Right before Joseph socked him in the jaw."

Joseph Neill, more likely Joseph O'Neill in a time where many employers said _no Irish need apply_ , decked the prejudiced man and then stormed away to the next passenger compartment. Smithers hurried after his young assistant with cries of _"You can't quit! You're the best salesman in the region!"_

"Served him right," muttered Kid.

Basking in the early morning sun, Heyes smiled as he watched the buildings on the shoreline peek out from beneath the lifting fog.

"Squeeee!"

Bells whistled. The water around the ferryboat churned and roiled as the engine slowed. Kid slowly raised his head to look at all the commotion. On the dock, men shouted. Ropes were thrown as if the men were trying to lasso the ferry. Kid's mouth gaped in surprise.

"We're here? Already?"

"Yeah, we'll be ashore in a few minutes," smiled Heyes, pleased that his plan to distract Kid had worked. "Then we can go find Silky."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"This don't look like the kinda place I would expect to find Silky," stated Kid. "Ain't nothing like the fancy suite Silky had in Reno."

Sharp blue eyes looked the narrow brownstone up and down, then narrowed. A man staggered around the corner of the next building. The stranger stopped against the side of the stairs. The man clutched a brown paper bag to his chest. Blinking in the bright midday light, the man slid down the side of the brownstone wall into the shadow of the stairs. Totally oblivious to Kid's watchful gaze, the man licked his lips and peered into his bag.

"San Francisco is home for Silky these days," replied Heyes. "That place in Reno was set up for a con."

"Three rooms in a luxury hotel?" Kid turned to stare at his partner. The younger man couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice. "A whole suite just for a con?"

"Silky never does anything by halves," informed Heyes. "And he always says you have to have the proper set up if you want to make a sting."

Kid heard the admiration in his partner's voice. A queasy feeling, that had nothing to do with their recent ferry ride, returned. The sturdy blond tried to express his misgivings.

"Heyes, why did you agree to work with Silky this time?" prodded Kid.

"Silky is like family," responded Heyes in a warm tone. "But we're not working with him yet. We're just gonna hear what he has to say. We don't have to do anything unless we both agree."

The tightness between Kid's shoulder blades loosened some. The determined man pressed again.

"Good," nodded Kid. "I was just wonderin', because there ain't no paper on him, I checked..."

Heyes spun on his heels. Hands on hips, the dark haired man was now frowning at Kid.

"You checked on Silky?" interrupted Heyes. "How? And when? Surely you didn't waltz into a Sheriff's office and tip him off."

"Course not," snapped Kid. "This was a couple years ago, after you introduced us in Reno."

"How did you check on Silky?" demanded Heyes.

"I have my ways," answered Kid with a smirk.

Kid watched as his partner's dark brown eyes narrowed, bottom lip puckered out. Heyes' thinking face. It was a moment before his partner's expression cleared. The slender man straightened up with a self-satisfied smile.

"Don't look so smug. You asked Clem to check on Silky for you," deduced Heyes.

"I never asked…," huffed Kid.

"You wouldn't have to," retorted Heyes. "You just mention Silky once, and she'll write Lom to see if he has any wanted posters."

"Actually," corrected Kid, "Clem sweet talked the local deputy into showing her all the wanted posters for flim flam men west of the Mississippi, then she checked the Denver hall of records, before she wrote to Lom."

The two men stared at each other. It was a moment before Heyes' lips curled up in a smile approval.

"I don't know anybody else that can talk a person into something better than Clem," chuckled Heyes.

"I can think of one," snorted Kid.

"Hey!" objected Heyes.

Kid just grinned at his partner. Heyes opened his mouth to protest, and then shut it. In a moment, the inquisitive man tried again.

"So why did you want to check up on Silky?"

"Have you ever actually seen Silky rob anyone?"

The dimpled smile reappeared.

"Nobody ever sees Silky rob anyone," answered Heyes.

"Huh?"

"That's the beauty of a con Kid," grinned Heyes. "Confidence schemes are the only kind of thieving Silky does. They're the kinda plans where the mark is in so deep with his own lawbreaking he can't report Silky or any of his gang to the law."

"Silky has a gang?"

"I don't think he calls them a gang," responded Heyes, "but yeah, his crew is like a gang."

"If he's got his own folks, then what does Silky need us for?"

Heyes pushed his black pointed hat back and squinted against the bright midday sun to check the telegram clutched in his hand.

"This is the correct street name and house number," responded Heyes waving the telegram aloft. "Let's go find out."

With an elaborate sweep of his hand, Kid gestured to the stairs.

"After you."

Heyes bounded up the steps to the front door of the brownstone. Kid followed his partner at a slower pace, checking for any unwarranted attention from people scurrying up and down the busy street. The man with the brown paper bag remained seated. At the top step, Heyes turned the knob, but the door didn't open. Slender fingers rapped sharply. Heyes raised his hand to knock again when from inside the front window a hand removed the _Rooms For Rent_ sign. The door opened slowly, followed by a female voice already apologizing.

"I'm sorry, but I rented the last…," the slim, dark haired woman's voice stopped as recognized the man in front of her. Her lips curled up in a delighted smile of welcome. "Heyes!"

"George!"

Heyes spread his arms wide in time to catch the attractive woman as she threw her arms around his shoulders.

"Oh, thank goodness!" whispered George. "You boys are finally here!"

A brief kiss on Heyes' cheek and the brunette reached one arm out towards the younger Kansan drawing him into a warm embrace.

"Kid! I'm so glad to see you boys. We need you!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Now Heyes don't get upset," urged George. "Billy was Silky's protégé. Silky wants to avenge his murder."

The lithe genius stopped pacing. Turning away from the walnut paneling, the schemer looked at the slender brunette seated beside their white haired host.

"Oh I'm not upset," seethed Heyes. "I'm well beyond upset!"

Brown eyes turned to glare at Silky.

"We rob banks and trains!" protested Heyes. "Goin' after murderers isn't our line of work!"

"Elaborate cons take time to set up, you know that Heyes," began Silky.

"A con?" Heyes' voice rose questioningly. He ran a hand through his dark hair in exasperation. "I though you said we needed to get Freddy."

The irascible white haired man thumped his cane on the floor beside his chair and leaned forward.

"We do! Frederick Houseman is a low down, miserable scalawag that gives decent con artists a bad name!" hissed Silky.

Silky continued his tirade against Houseman. George tuned out her mentor's complaints, she'd heard most of them before. Instead, she watched her friends. She hadn't seen them in four months. Heyes appeared thinner, but otherwise unchanged. Kid seemed unusually tense. The strapping blond stood near the unlit fireplace, feet spread apart, arms crossed over his chest. Kid's scowl nearly matched Silky's.

"And Freddy runs a crooked game at that saloon of his!" concluded Silky as if cheating at cards was the worst of the man's sins.

"None of that makes Freddy a murderer," reminded Heyes in a soft, dangerous voice.

"Billy's dead and I ain't got the money!" huffed the cantankerous little man. "Freddy's behind it I tell you!"

"What do you want us to do about it?" demanded Heyes.

"Not you, Kid," answered Silky.

Heyes and Kid exchanged a glance. Kid shifted his weight, lowering his arms to his sides. The hard mask slipped. For a moment, George glimpsed the vulnerable boy she'd known in Texas. Then Kid took a deep breath. The hard look returned.

"Well I ain't gonna be the one to put Freddy in his grave," replied Kid. Blue eyes shone hard and steely, with none of their accustomed warmth. "I don't hold with killin' people."

"What?" Silky reared his head back in surprise. "I don't want you to kill Freddy."

"Really?" Kid's disbelief was evident.

"And I don't hold with guns!" snapped Silky. The revolver on Kid's hip was level with the man's eyes. Silky looked up from the weapon to frown at Kid. "Never have and never will!"

"Sometimes holding a gun prevents a killing," reminded Kid. "So I wear one."

The tall muscular blond and the frail seeming septuagenarian continued to glare at each other.

"I'm sorry the law can't help with your friend's murder," added Kid in a softer tone, "but that don't mean I'm gonna be your vigilante."

Silky wrinkled up his nose as he realized what the young fast draw thought he was being asked to do. The white haired man slumped back in his chair.

"Kid, you got it all wrong," huffed Silky. "I don't want you to help me shoot Freddy."

"You don't?" two voices echoed in unison.

George couldn't tell who sounded more surprised, Kid or Heyes.

"No," answered Silky. A crafty smile spread across the older man's face. "All I want is for you to help me get the money. All the money."

"Why?" demanded Kid.

The tall blond man rocked back on his heels, carefully watching Silky's face.

"Nothing will bring Billy back," sighed Silky. "Taking the money will help his family, and I'll get to watch Freddy squirm. That's gonna have to be good enough."

George caught the slight exchange between her two friends. The subtle nod Kid gave in response to Heyes' questioning glance told her they were in before Heyes spoke.

"What do you want us to do?" asked Heyes.

"Just Kid," began Silky. "We've already started the set up…"

"We planted an article in the society column of the _Chronicle_ with a blurry photograph of a fair haired man," interrupted George. She flashed a bright smile at her friends. "Kid, you'll be Prince Wilhelm Heinrich Johannes Ernst Maximillian Blundt of Saxe-Alten-Gutenberg."

"We work together," reminded Heyes. "We're partners."

"We need someone who can lose at poker," smirked George. She pointed at the younger partner. "I know he can, so he's our bait."

"Kid, we just want you to get invited to one of Freddy's invitation only poker games, and then lose," coerced Silky. "Lose enough so Freddy tries to make you one of his _special_ loans."

"And how am I supposed to get invited to one of those special games?" demanded Kid. "It takes time to build up enough trust to get invited to one of those things."

"How long do you expect this to take?" demanded the brown eyed Kansan.

"It's going to take a couple of months," answered Silky.

"I told you, we're leaving right after the Pierce and Hamilton industrial expo," reminded Heyes. "It's less than three weeks until the fourth of May."

George let out an involuntary squeak. Heyes and Kid both turned to stare at their friend. The slim brunette shifted beneath their scrutiny.

"Um…," George hesitated. "About the expo…"

"What about the expo?" demanded Heyes. "You promised you would be able to wrangle tickets!"

"It's not my fault!" George insisted.

"George," growled Kid in a low voice, "I remember what happened the last time you said it wasn't your fault."

Heyes' eyebrows went up, but George didn't have time to fill him in.

"The Pierce and Hamilton industrial expo has been so popular," explained George, "the company added a few additional cities to their tour."

"So when are the demonstration safes arriving in San Francisco?" asked Kid.

"The expo won't be here until June fifteenth," answered George with a bright smile across her face. "You'll have plenty of time to be Prince Wilhelm."

The glum expressions on her friend's faces told George they weren't pleased with the idea of another month in San Francisco.

"George," asked Heyes, "what cities got added to the tour?"

George closed her eyes with a sigh. Of course Heyes had to ask.

"Cincinnati, Wichita, and Denver."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Not so close," hissed Wheat. "The door ain't open yet."

Kyle backed up a step. Wheat shook his right foot, the one that Kyle had stepped on.

"Mr. Pierce don't like it when we's late," reminded Kyle.

Wheat fixed a glare on his little friend.

"Which would you rather?" asked Wheat. "Explain to Pierce why we're late? Or explain to Heyes why we didn't get his telegram?"

"Well Wheat," began Kyle, "when you put it thataway…"

The front door to the Pueblo Colorado telegraph office squeaked open. The aging telegraph operator blinked in the early morning light.

"You again?" snorted the man.

In his black pants and white shirt, the telegraph operator was dressed very much like Hannibal Heyes in his new suit. The main difference being the telegraph operator wore black bands on the sleeves and his long, knobby fingers were stained with ink.

"Yes," replied Wheat, using his current alias, he added, "Carl Jorgensen checking for a telegram."

The operator returned to his desk and pawed through the slips of paper in a wire basket. After a moment, he looked up and smiled.

"You're in luck this morning Carl," continued the telegraph operator, "the message you've been waiting for arrived."

The burly outlaw grinned in relief, until he picked up the paper. Heyes' message was short and to the point. _Arrived safely._ Wheat frowned. Nothing about why Kid and Heyes were four days late arriving at San Francisco.

"Any response?" questioned the telegraph operator.

"Yes," informed Wheat.

A few minutes later, Wheat and Kyle were hurrying to join Lobo and Preacher at the railroad depot. Wheat's message, _Dear Ma, Found work in Pueblo with three friends. C. went home. Your son Carl,_ had lightened his pockets considerably.

"I don't like this plan," grumbled Kyle. "Railroad work is awfully hard on the back, and Lobo says the tracks ain't never gonna make it to Poncha Springs."

"Just awhile longer," muttered Wheat, although he didn't like this new plan either.

"No tellin' what kinda trouble Kid and Heyes are gonna get into without us watching out for them," frowned the smallest member of the gang. "What are we gonna do if something goes wrong?"

"If anything goes wrong," answered Wheat, "we'll come break 'em outta jail."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	3. A Prince, A Palace and A Pair of Knaves?

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Chapter 3: A Prince, A Palace and A Pair of Knaves?

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Wake up Kid," whispered Heyes. "We're back in San Francisco."

In response, Kid's muscular frame rolled away from Heyes. While the upper part of Kid's body scrunched up against the side of the carriage, the blond's denim clad legs sprawled across the space between the two upholstered seats. The tip of Kid's polished boots brushed beneath the hemline of George's dark purple taffeta skirt. The slim brunette straightened up in her seat and moved the edge of her skirt away from Kid's unknowing transgression.

"Let him sleep," urged George in a soft tone, "it will be a while before we reach Montgomery Street."

The curvaceous woman peered out the window. Raindrops splattered against the dark glass. George crinkled up her nose and sniffed. Heyes had to strain to hear her voice.

"We would have been back before sundown if Kid had agreed to take the ferry back to Oakland," grumbled George.

Heyes grinned. Kid had flat out refused the first step in Silky's plan to introduce _Prince Wilhelm_ to San Francisco. It wasn't until Kid reminded Heyes that they could see the Pierce and Hamilton industrial expo in Denver that Silky relented. While they were waiting for the flim flam man's private carriage to arrive, Heyes went to work on the second part of Silky's plot to get back at Freddy.

"Considering the weather outside," smirked Heyes, "I'm mighty glad we rode in Silky's carriage instead of a boat."

"You shouldn't even be here," added George with a pout. "You're supposed to be behind the scenes, not a front man."

Heyes could be stubborn too. Silky's elaborate scheme to bring the fictitious German prince to the city in style had George accompany Kid in the role of English tutor. The outlaw mastermind couched his first suggestion as a minor refinement to the plan. Heyes' offer to provide security to the royal traveler was rejected. Two armed guards would accompany the royal carriage and Silky's man Harry was already in place at the hotel. Heyes persisted. Several more suggestions were offered up before the wily old conman finally surrendered to Heyes.

"Silky agreed adding a social secretary to the Prince's entourage was a good idea," reminded the dark haired schemer.

Heyes joined Kid and George for the clandestine journey back to Oakland. Silky's driver dropped them off near the train station. They were able to sneak inside unobserved during the ruckus caused by the next train's arrival. The three friends then decked Kid out in a flowing blue cloak and exited the train station as if they were the last of the departing first class passengers. The fancy, black and gilt trimmed, German manufactured carriage Silky had arranged for their return trip to San Francisco was an eye catcher. They made quite a show of climbing into the waiting carriage for the return trip. It wasn't long afterwards that Kid pulled his hat down over his eyes and went to sleep.

"A lady doesn't usually get invited to gambling dens," continued Heyes.

Heyes thought that argument was what convinced Silky to send him with Kid and George. Or possibly the white haired conniver had finally cottoned on to Heyes' real goal and conceded. George twisted away from the window. On the seat beside her, a purple felted hat sat atop the neatly folded Prussian blue cloak. The headpiece was adorned with two black feathers that matched the black piping on her travelling coat. George picked up the hat and pulled out the long, sharp hatpin piercing the brim.

"Getting Kid invited to the Roaring Tiger is Harry's job," replied George.

George concentrated on pinning the hat at a jaunty angle over her dark curls and missed Heyes' crafty smile. The Kansan recognized the name of Freddy's saloon in upper Pacific Street. He'd been trying to get George to talk about Silky's plan ever since they left the white haired conman. Beyond setting up Kid as a moneyed mark for Freddy to try and fleece, Silky only provided the barest details. When pressed for more information, the irascible man clammed up. George's slim hand reached for the black gloves sitting next to the recently vacated space formerly holding her hat.

"Silky is pulling out all the stops for this con," remarked Heyes in a deliberately casual tone.

The preoccupied con woman lowered her gaze to the gloves in her hand. George bit her lower lip as she tugged the first glove down over the fingers of her left hand.

"Where did Silky find an authentic Berline carriage in California?" prodded Heyes.

"Silky didn't," muttered George still concentrating on pulling the tight glove over her fingers. "Someone named Soapy Saunders had it freighted in by rail from Chicago a couple of months ago."

Heyes' eyes widened at that tidbit of information. Silky hadn't mentioned his old friend Soapy was involved too. And although Silky had said the con would take a couple of months to complete, he hadn't mentioned that the set up for this scam had been in the works for so long.

"Soapy?" repeated Heyes. "I haven't seen him in ages. Is he in San Francisco already?"

"Oh he can't come, Freddy knows him on sight," responded George as she began tugging on the second glove. "But he's helping in every way he can, like all of Silky's friends…"

Heyes' eyes glazed over as George ran through a lengthy list of names. Some, like Soapy, he recognized. Other names, Heyes couldn't place. Beside him, Kid shifted position again but didn't seem to wake. George stopped talking. In exasperation, she bit the edge of her glove and tugged it with her teeth.

"I don't remember Silky ever having a protégé before," prodded Heyes. "And I never heard about anyone named Billy working with Silky."

The satisfied smile on George's face as she admired the fit of the gloves on her hand disappeared. Her dark eyes looked up at Heyes.

"You wouldn't have heard about Billy. Silky had him fronted as a legitimate businessman," explained George. "Billy was never involved in the cons. I'd been living in San Francisco for two months before I met him, two days before he died."

"What happened?" nudged Heyes.

"Silky was going to turn over everything to Billy and retire," continued George. "But now…"

George's voice trailed off. She swallowed before going on.

"Billy drowned," whispered George. "At first we all thought it was a horrible accident, but Freddy came up to Silky at the internment…"

George stopped talking for a moment, her eyes going misty. Heyes looked away, to give her some time to compose herself. He adjusted the white shirt cuffs peeking out from the sleeves of his black suitcoat. Outside the carriage, gas street lamps cast a golden glow on the dark wet walkways. Buildings of brick and brownstone soared upwards. George shivered.

"I was on the other side of the bier and didn't hear what Freddy said, but I saw Silky's reaction," continued the brunette. "Silky just sort of froze. He got all hard and cold and didn't say anything until we got back to the brownstone. That's when he started sending messages, calling in favors, asking everyone to come in on a new con, a con against Freddy. Only he didn't call it a con."

"What did Silky call it?" asked Heyes in a soft voice.

"War."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes tried not to show the shock he felt. He wondered, with a sick feeling in his stomach, just what exactly they had gotten into? It was a moment before he spoke again.

"Funny," Heyes observed in a hard tone that belied the word he used, "we just left a warzone. Why did Silky want us for this job? Did Silky think we're the cavalry?"

George rolled her eyes and shook her head, dark curls bouncing on her shoulders.

"No, Silky wanted you to help plan the job, remember? You were supposed to be behind the scenes," huffed George.

"And Kid? Why Kid to play Prince Wilhelm?" asked Heyes. "Surely Silky could have found another man to run up debts playing poker?"

"We wanted Kid because he can take care of himself, and others," clarified George. Her dark eyes narrowed as she gave him a pointed look. "Silky knows your gang's reputation. No one gets shot on your jobs."

"We've never shot anyone," objected Heyes. "I can't say that everyone else has returned the favor."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

George suddenly looked as green as Kid had on the ferry ride earlier this morning. The carriage jolted over a rut in the road. Heyes tried to get the conversation back on a lighter tone.

"Kid plays cards better than he used to," observed Heyes. "When did you see him lose at poker? In Texas?"

From beneath Kid's brown hat a muffled voice protested.

"George, you ain't tellin' that story!"

"Oh Kid," smirked George as she turned a fond gaze on her young friend. "You should be glad Clem and I taught you a few of the tricks of a card table."

Kid removed his floppy brown hat, straightened up and looked directly at George.

"I still think either you or Clem stacked the deck," huffed Kid. He ran a hand through his tousled curls and turned to face Heyes. "Don't ever agree to play poker with either one of them!"

George's peel of laughter caused Kid to turn back and glower at her. Heyes forced a smile across his face.

"I didn't know Clem knew how to play poker," replied Heyes. He glanced towards the dark window. "We should be pulling up to the hotel any minute now."

"Actually," smiled George as the carriage passed a large fountain, "we'll be pulling into the hotel."

"What?"

Both Kid and Heyes pressed their noses against the glass panes as the Berline slowed. The tall building before them had a wide gated carriage entrance. The driver pulled the reins, turning the horses. They drove into a central courtyard.

"Boys!" called George.

Heyes and Kid were unceremoniously tugged backwards.

"George?" questioned Kid. "What are you doing?"

"There are people on those balconies," reminded George in a low hiss. "They expect to see a Prince who's been to Berlin, Paris, London, New York and isn't the least bit excited to see the Palace Hotel of San Francisco."

"I ain't excited to see the Palace," responded Kid.

"Really?" the sarcasm in George's voice was unmistakable.

"But I am purely pleased to be getting out of this carriage," smirked Kid. "I've had enough of trains, ferries and fancy carriages for a while. I want to sit someplace that ain't moving."

Outside the driver called to the horses. The carriage slowed to a complete stop. Inside, George picked up the heavy blue cloak and thrust the blue garment he'd first donned in the Oakland train station toward Kid.

"Put this back on," ordered George. She pulled his brown hat out of his hands. "Remember, Prince Wilhelm doesn't speak much English, so no talking."

Kid frowned. He glanced at his partner.

"Where have I heard that before?" grumbled Kid.

Kid's strong fingers tied the cloak securely beneath his chin. The heavy fabric engulfed him, covering his blue jeans and red shirt just in time. The carriage door swung open. A man with straight blond hair and a narrow, pointed moustache poked his head inside. Eyes as blue as Kid's assessed the weary travelers. The blond man's gaze passed briefly over Heyes, lingered for a moment longer on George, then settled on Kid.

"You must be the prince," greeted the soft spoken man.

Heyes judged the man to be about fifteen years older than his own twenty-five years. The older man's stylish suit had a close tailored fit that showed off his trim physique.

"And you must be Harry," responded Heyes.

The conman smiled back at Heyes with a self-assured attitude. The devilish glint in Harry's eyes put Heyes on edge.

"Yes, Silky sent me," agreed the dapper man before turning back to Kid. "I'm Harry Wagener."

"Harry Wagener?" echoed Kid.

"Sssh, remember keep your mouth shut," instructed Harry. "Now walk in like you own the place."

Kid frowned, but Harry turned and bestowed a gleaming smile on George. The smooth talker extended his hand towards her. Harry raised his voice so that his words carried to the outside audience.

"The prince is always a gentleman. He insists, ladies first."

George shoved Kid's hat into Heyes' hands before taking Harry's hand. The fashionable brunette descended the black carriage steps. Heyes looked from the hat to his partner.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" hissed Heyes in a low voice.

"Don't lose it," snapped Kid.

Kid's gaze never wavered from George and Harry. The blond whispered an indistinct word of warning before he too stepped from the carriage into the Palace Hotel.

"What? What did you say?" called Heyes in a low pitched voice, but it was too late. Kid was out of earshot.

Voices outside exclaimed in greeting. Through the carriage window Heyes glimpsed Kid, standing regal in the lighted courtyard. The blue cloak hid his everyday clothing and only showed the brightly polished new boots. Kid held his arm out to George and swung the woman to his right side. On his left, Harry beckoned and gestured towards something Heyes couldn't see. As they disappeared around the corner of the carriage, Heyes looked at Kid's big floppy brown hat in dismay. His own smaller, pointed hat was safely packed in his carpet bag along with his pistol. The only weapon he had was a single shot derringer tucked inside his black suitcoat. Jamming Kid's hat on his head Heyes scrambled out of the carriage. Gawking in amazement was hardly an act.

"Hoo wee!" exclaimed Heyes. "Now don't this beat all!"

Feeling unusually like a country bumpkin, Heyes hurried after Kid, George and the imperious Harry. The slender man caught up with his friends as they entered an empty room paneled with a shining red wood. A uniformed hotel employee murmured something about privacy and luggage and later before he pushed a button on the wall and withdrew. Doors swished closed and the entire room began to rise.

"We're going to the seventh floor…," began Harry.

Kid threw back his cloak and crossed the space between himself and Silky's man. The twenty-one year old slammed Harry against one of the glossy red walls. The man of action pressed his left arm across Harry's chest and raised his right fist as if ready to flatten the man.

"Who are you?" demanded Kid. "I saw you outside of Silky's place this morning. What were you doing? Spying on him?"

For a moment there was only the low whine of the hydraulics as the room moved steadily upwards. Kid looked fierce. George's wide-eyed gaze showed her surprise. Harry's smile widened. The con man reached a hand up and twirled the tip of his moustache.

"Oh you're good," schmoozed the debonair man in a honeyed voice. "Few people recognize me in my tramp get up."

Heyes blinked in surprise as he realized Harry was the staggering bum clutching a brown paper bag. Kid's jaw clenched. He leaned his weight on his arm, pressing Harry tighter against the hard wall.

"I asked, what were you doing outside of Silky's place this morning?" reminded the younger Kansan in a dangerous tone.

"If I were you, I'd answer him," advised Heyes in a smooth voice.

Harry smirked and didn't say a word. George stepped closer to Kid and Harry, trying to shove her way in between them.

"Kid let Harry go!" insisted George.

"Silky said Billy was killed because someone leaked information to Freddy about the money he was carrying," continued Kid, pressing harder against Harry. "Was it you? Were you spying on Silky so you can run tell that fella Freddy…"

"Harry couldn't possibly be the informant," interrupted George

Heyes stepped closer too. He faced George across Kid's arms.

"Then why was Harry spying on Silky?" demanded Heyes.

"Bringing down Billy's murderer is important to me," retorted Harry. "When Silky told me he was bringing in two ringers to help get Freddy, I wanted to see for myself. I wasn't spying on him, I was spying on you two."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The elevator chimed as they reached the seventh floor. Heyes backed away from Harry.

"Kid, George, the door is gonna open," hissed Heyes waving them back as well. "Act natural in case there's someone standing outside."

The elevator doors swooshed open to reveal a wide corridor. Harry brushed the lapels of his frock coat as if to remove traces of Kid's hands before stepping into the hallway. A profusion of potted plants, palms, ferns and more surrounded the railing which overlooked the carriage entrance. White marble statues graced the walkway.

"Don't bother," huffed Harry. The blond conman strode down the corridor to a pair of dark paneled doors. He threw them open. ""I've told the hotel staff that the Prince likes his privacy. We've got the entire seventh floor to ourselves."

"The whole floor?" repeated Kid incredulously as he began to untie the heavy cloak. "How much is this gonna cost?"

Heyes, Kid and George followed Harry into a spacious, well-appointed parlor. A thick oriental rug covered the floor. Two cozy chairs flanked a fireplace. A crystal vase filled with white roses sat atop a lustrous mahogany table. A well stocked bookcase lined one wall with a fainting sofa nearby. A grand piano filled one corner of the room. Bay windows provided a glorious view of the city. San Francisco sparkled in the night.

"Silky's paying for it, don't worry," chided Harry. "The first rule about fleecing anyone is you have to act like you don't need the money."

George's jaw gaped open. Kid spun around slowly.

"How many rooms are in here?"

"This wing has four bedrooms facing the parlor," explained Harry. He strode forward with an expansive wave to the doors on either side of the room. "The two bedrooms on each side are separated by private bathrooms with all the latest amenities."

"The bath water will be cold by the time they get enough buckets hauled up here," groused Kid.

Harry spun around in response.

"There are pipes bringing water up from the cistern beneath the building…," started Harry.

His eyes widened as Kid unfastened the blue cloak and tossed the garment over the back of a nearby chair revealing his red shirt and blue jeans. Heyes removed Kid's brown hat from his head and placed it on top of the cloak. Harry stopped speaking. The con man shook his head in dismay. He ran his eyes up and down Kid's long frame.

"Tomorrow, we go shopping," stated Harry in a firm tone. "We can't have a prince running around looking like a cowboy."

Harry stroked his chin, staring at Kid contemplatively.

"We'll keep you out of sight until we get you gussied up right," mused Harry. "And then we introduce you to San Francisco society. We'll get you about town. Theater, the opera…

"The Pierce and Hamilton industrial expo," reminded Kid.

Harry waved his hand dismissively.

"You need to be seen flashing money around town," continued Harry. "That will draw Freddy out."

Kid opened his mouth as if to argue, but George spoke first.

"Planning all that can wait until morning. Tonight, I'm going to take a long, hot bubble bath and go to bed," declared George. She pointed past the piano to the front corner bedroom. "That's my room."

Kid tilted his head in surprise and looked at the room on the other side of the wide parlor as George disappeared.

"Is any of that water piped up here hot?"

"Yes, if you turn on the faucet marked with H," answered Harry. Pointing at the door farthest from the bookcase, Harry added, "I've already got my things in there."

The squealing sound of pipes drawing water upwards echoed from the bathroom adjacent to George's room.

"If you want to be near your girlfriend, you're gonna have to wait a while for hot water," added Harry with a smirk. "Or if you want a hot bath now, you can take the room next to mine. We're on a different pipe system."

"George ain't my girlfriend. She's more like my sister," objected Kid. "And I think a hot bath sounds pretty good."

Kid walked past the fainting couch and the bookcase to disappear into the bedroom. Heyes found himself face to face with Harry as the sounds of water running began in Kid's room. The wary Kansan smiled disarmingly.

"Sounds like you're gonna keep Kid busy," nudged Heyes in a beguiling voice. "What can you tell me about Silky's plan?"

"Nothing," replied Harry in a short clipped tone.

Heyes' dark brown eyes narrowed at the rebuff.

"Nothing because Silky hasn't told you yet," hazarded Heyes with a shrewd guess.

Harry's shoulders tightened, telling Heyes he was right. The canny tactician pressed on.

"Harry," asked Heyes, "why did George say the informant couldn't be you?"

This time Harry's shoulders slumped. The older blond ran a hand through his short cropped hair.

"Billy was supposed to meet me the night he disappeared," sighed Harry. "When he didn't show up, I went to Silky. George knows I reported Billy missing."

"That doesn't mean you couldn't be the informant," countered Heyes.

Harry's face darkened in anger.

"Billy was my partner," huffed Harry. "I'm gonna do whatever it takes to get Freddy. And if that means parading your young friend around town and watching his back in the Barbary…"

"Kid's my partner," interrupted Heyes. "And if his back needs watching, I'll be looking out for him."

Harry barked a short, sharp laugh.

"I watched the two of you this morning," reminded Harry. "You wouldn't last one night by yourselves in San Francisco. You don't know how dangerous it is here!"

"We've managed to stay alive in dangerous situations before," argued Heyes in a low voice.

"The town has hardly got a police force. There's a murder or more every night in town, people disappear, get shanghaied or worse," continued Harry. "And Freddy's a real hardcase, he's been trying to muscle in on Silky's operation for years. If Freddy gets word that _Prince Wilhelm_ is working with Silky, your partner will be gone. So we play this scam the way I say!"

"I thought this was Silky's plan."

Heyes quiet controlled voice belied his anger. Harry was oblivious. Harry pointed to the doorway next to George's room.

"You can take the room next to your girlfriend," concluded Harry as he turned towards his own room.

"She's not my girlfriend," retorted Heyes. "And I'm not sleepy, I think I'll read awhile."

Heyes strode over to the bookcase and grabbed a thick tome. He settled down on the fainting couch, book in hand, determined to keep between Kid and Harry.

"Suit yourself," smirked Harry, "but I usually find reading is easier if the book is right side up."

Heyes watched Harry disappear inside his own room. It wasn't until the man's door clicked shut that he righted the book, _Innocents Abroad_.

"You didn't do a very good job watching out for your partner Harry," muttered Heyes. "What makes you think I'm gonna trust you to watch out for Kid? For all I know, you're in cahoots with Freddy."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	4. A Prince About Town

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Chapter 4: A Prince About Town

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Thank you."

Kid's soft words were followed by the sound of the door shutting. Heyes blinked his eyes. The book slipped from his hands and landed on the plush carpet with a barely audible thump in the quiet hotel room. Heyes yawned. He'd fallen asleep on the fainting couch outside of Kid's room. The dark haired Kansan wriggled upright.

"Who were you speaking to?" asked Heyes.

His partner turned away from the door to the corridor and grinned at Heyes. Kid was dressed in a clean white Henley and blue jeans similar to the ones he'd worn earlier. The familiar gun belt was securely fastened around Kid's waist.

"Diego, he brought our luggage earlier," answered Kid.

The battle to separate Kid from his precious Colt had been hard fought. While Silky had conceded to Kid on the issue of the ferry boat, the wily old conman had been adamant that Prince Wilhelm wouldn't be carrying a revolver. Kid's holstered weapon had been packed away for the duration of their journey.

"Earlier?" repeated Heyes in a questioning tone. "Didn't you take a bath? Don't tell me you opened up the door wrapped in a towel!"

"Nah, the hotel has robes in the bathroom," replied Kid. The sturdy blond waved a crisp sheet of folded paper in one hand, his blue eyes shining. "You wouldn't believe what else the hotel provides."

"What?" grinned Heyes in response to Kid's infectious excitement.

The younger Kansan gestured to the round table. A gleaming silver tray stood in front of the flower arrangement. Kid strode over to the table, laid the paper down and lifted the cover off a steaming plate. The aroma filling the air reminded Heyes that he hadn't eaten since the biscuits they purchased from a vendor on the wharf before boarding the ferry this morning. Heyes' stomach grumbled.

"Two steaks, potatoes, green beans, carrots…," Kid beamed as he listed the food.

"Two steaks?" interrupted Heyes. "Seriously? Are you really that hungry?"

Kid's eyes widened in surprise.

"I wasn't planning on eating both of them," replied Kid. "One of these dinners is for you."

Heyes rose to stand in one fluid motion, stretching his arms high overhead. With three long steps he joined his partner at the table. There were only two place settings. A crystal salt shaker stood sentinel with a matching pepper shaker guarding a small bowl filled with pats of butter shaped into little circular balls much like tiny cannonballs. A larger white and gold trimmed platter was draped with a green brocade cloth. Condensation dripped down the side of two crystal goblets filled with chipped ice and water.

"I can't believe you ordered room service," declared Heyes. Glancing at the menu on the table, Heyes gave a low whistle. "Especially at these prices! Two bits for a steak and another two bits for three vegetable sides! Each!"

"Silky did say to spare no expense," reminded Kid as Heyes sat down.

Kid unwound his white linen napkin to reveal an embossed silver fork, knife and spoon. The older outlaw pulled out a straight back chair and sat down next to his partner.

"Did you order anything for George and Harry?" he asked.

"George said she didn't want anything except her valise," responded Kid. "And I haven't heard anything from Harry since I went to get cleaned up. If he wants supper, he'll have to rustle up his own. The kitchen closes at midnight."

Heyes glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantle. Ornate brass curlicues pointed upwards, indicating eleven fifty-five. His long dark hair flopped to either side as he shook his head with a rueful grin.

"Guess Harry's not getting dinner tonight," surmised Heyes.

"More likely Harry already ate before we arrived at the hotel," hazarded Kid. "I got the feeling he knows how to take care of himself."

Heyes lifted the folded green cloth to reveal brown and white dinner rolls. Kid reached for a roll and stabbed a creamy yellow ball of butter with his knife.

"According to Silky's plan," reminded Heyes, "you're not supposed to speak much English."

"There are some things about Silky's plan that I don't like, and that's one of 'em," murmured Kid as he spread the melting butter across the hot roll. "It just seems like there are too many loose ends. I think you could have planned it better."

"Maybe, maybe not," replied Heyes diplomatically. "We really don't know enough details of Silky's plan yet."

"That's botherin' me too. It just ain't safe, not knowing the details," stated Kid. "Helping Silky seemed like a good idea, he seemed so upset about Billy…"

"But we don't know Billy and Silky hasn't exactly been forthcoming about what he wants us to do," finished Heyes.

Kid nodded. Heyes picked up his silverware. The two men attacked their meal, slicing meat, spearing vegetables. It wasn't until Kid popped the last bite of buttered roll into his mouth and that Heyes spoke again.

"How did you order supper?" asked Heyes. "Did you point to the menu? Or what?"

Kid shook his blond head.

"One part of Silky's plan works really well. Money talks," replied Kid. "I told Diego we needed two of the best dinner's in the place."

"In English?" demanded Heyes, his eyebrows rising upwards.

"Yeah," nodded Kid. "I don't think starving was part of Silky's plan, and it sure isn't part of my plan."

"Your plan?" Heyes' dark eyes narrowed and he looked sharply at his partner. "What kind of plan do you have?"

"The same one I always have," shrugged Kid. Big hands rolled up the napkin and placed it on the plate. "My plan is to keep us both alive as long as possible."

"That's a plan?" questioned Heyes, his voice rising in disbelief.

"Well it ain't a fancy plan like one of yours, or Silky's, but it's worked so far," answered Kid. "I just have to tweak it every now and then for ex-ten-u-at-ing circumstances."

Heyes' stared at Kid as his partner carefully pronounced the unfamiliar word. Heyes loved words. Books, ideas, long rambling conversations about anything and everything, were a joy to Heyes. Not so for his cousin. Jedidiah Curry had been an inquisitive little boy, just as sharp and talkative as his older cousin, but six years in Valparaiso had taught Kid the value of silence. It was a sign of trust that the young fast draw tried out new words on Heyes.

"What kind of extenuating circumstances?" asked Heyes speaking the words smoothly.

Heyes pretended not to notice Kid's fleeting smile at the affirmation of hearing the words pronounced back, letting Kid know that he'd used the words correctly.

"This time, we're in San Francisco and the rest of the boys are in Colorado," answered Kid, "so I gotta have a plan to make sure we all get back to Wyoming in one piece."

"Don't you think we might oughta stick with Silky's plan for the time we're here in San Francisco?" nudged Heyes. "The plan where you're supposed to be a German Prince that doesn't speak English."

"Heyes, I figure a little misinformation can be a good thing," answered Kid. "Especially if Silky's plan blows up in our faces."

"What do you mean?"

"I told Diego you were the prince," answered Kid.

"What?!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"No," insisted Harry the next morning. "We're not going anywhere with you looking like that."

"What's wrong with the way I look?" demanded Kid. His jaw clenched in defiance. "It's clean!"

"Blue jeans, red shirt," sniffed Harry. He waved his hand dismissively. "You look like you should be pounding nails on the building going up down the street, not staying in the Palace and parading about town."

Kid pushed back from the round table full of breakfast plates and glared at Harry. The suave city slicker wore an off white double breasted suitcoat over a yellow shirt. The debonair rascal continued eating his eggs unaware of Kid's frown.

"I ain't hidin' underneath that cloak again," objected Kid. "And I ain't staying cooped up inside all day."

"Silky wanted Kid to be out and about in the town," reminded Heyes. His suit with its white button down shirt was topped by a basic black string tie. "Kid can't go acting like a spendthrift if he stays cooped up in this room."

George put down her fork, eggs forgotten as she looked at Kid's reddened face. The low cut scoop neck of her pale blue dress showed off the small amethyst pendant dangling from around her neck.

"We could always say Prince Wilhelm wanted to dress like the local folks, blend in," suggested the pretty brunette.

"No, he's supposed to stand out, not blend in," argued Harry. "First we'll send for the tailor, the haberdasher..."

"I ain't getting all gussied up," argued Kid. The muscular blond stood up. "Silky said I'm supposed to go out and attract attention…"

"By being seen as Prince Wilhelm," interrupted Harry. "You've got to look the part!"

"We'll go to the tailor's, the haberdasher's, and any other shops you want," stated Kid, "but there's only two things I want to see in San Francisco."

"What's that?" demanded Harry.

"The Pierce and Hamilton exposition," answered Kid, "and Freddy."

George picked up a china teacup and waved her hand over the steaming beverage.

"You can't see the Pierce and Hamilton exposition until they arrive in June," reminded George. "But if you really want to see Frederick Houseman, you can always go to one of his legitimate businesses."

"What?" Heyes snapped his head around to look at the woman. George took a sip of her tea. "What legitimate businesses?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"We still ain't seen this Freddy fella," grumbled Kid. "It's been over a week!"

"Ten days with Harry jabbering on and on and on," stated Heyes in a glum tone.

Kid, Heyes, George and Harry had been out every day. Harry guided the little group, clinging to Kid's arm, introducing him to people occasionally, but mostly listening in on their conversations, interrupting and providing his own spin on things. They'd gone to the stores that Harry insisted upon, and a few places that George had suggested. A jewelry shop three streets from the hotel boasted _Be Dazzled, San Francisco's Finest Imported Jewels, Diamonds_ _, Rubies, Pearls and more. Frederick Houseman Esq._ in gilded letters on the glass window, but the owner wasn't in.

"It's worse than searching for a needle in a haystack," groused Kid. Broad shoulders clad in a light brown leather jacket shrugged. "How are we ever gonna find one man?"

"We found Giovanni, didn't we?" grinned Heyes.

"He found us," corrected Kid. "And a good thing too, or we'd never got away from that newspaper lady!"

George's insistence that they take a side trip Tuesday to a chocolate shop on the corner of Washington and Kearny Streets had resulted in chaos. The _Chronicle's_ society columnist had spotted them. Harry was left standing in the street with her as Kid, Heyes and George ran. In the ensuing attempt to avoid the obnoxious woman, the partners found themselves reunited with their former travelling companions.

"What's that woman from the _Chronicle_ want with you anyway?" asked Heyes.

"I don't know why she's following us!" protested Kid.

Giovanni and his wife worked in a small restaurant nearby. Their quick thinking friend hadn't reacted to Kid's assumed identity as Prince Wilhelm, but merely ushered the out of breath runners into the restaurant. Kid, Heyes and George ducked into the cool stone building, away from the prying eyes of the nosy newswoman. They stayed until Veronique Adler disappeared down the street. As the three friends departed the safety of the dark restaurant, Giovanni held Heyes back for a hurried whisper. Addressing Heyes by the alias he'd used on the train, Giovanni offered help. _"Timothy, if you and Orville are in trouble and need a place to stay, you come here."_

"You sure you didn't lead her on?" chuckled Heyes. "Miss Adler's written some pretty interesting articles…"

"I ain't never even talked to the woman!" huffed Kid. "All that stuff she writes is nothin' but a pack of lies!"

"It's called a gossip column," smirked Heyes.

"Is there a difference?" demanded Kid.

The redwood paneled elevator slowly descended towards the ground floor. Heyes looked at the clipboard he carried. In his guise of social secretary, he had Kid's itinerary listed. George and Harry had already gone down to the lobby. It was the first chance the partner's had to talk in private since Heyes received Wheat's latest telegram yesterday. _Dear Ma, three more weeks work in Pueblo, then we're moving south towards Fort Garland._

"What are you gonna tell Wheat?" asked Kid.

Heyes looked up from the clipboard and smiled at his partner.

"Sent an answering telegram last night," responded Heyes with an uncomfortable shrug. "Told him we'd be here at least another two months, and to let us know when he gets to Fort Garland."

Kid frowned.

"Wasn't Fort Garland where Preacher got arrested a couple years back?" asked Kid.

"I told Wheat to make sure he and his friends stay out of trouble too," added Heyes. "Even signed the telegram _Love MA._ Thank goodness George delivered the message to the telegraph operator."

Kid rolled his blue eyes, but they both knew there was nothing more to be done as long as they were staying in San Francisco. The elevator slowed as it reached the bottom of the shaft.

"Where are we going today?" asked Kid. "Please no more shopping!"

"Look on the bright side Kid," grinned Heyes, "At least you've got a new suit, and Harry's got a new jacket."

"Ugliest jacket I ever did see," snorted Kid.

"Now wasn't that what you said about that new suit of yours?" smirked Heyes.

"No, I said scratchiest, most uncomfortable…," Kid continued extolling the disadvantages of his new gray suit.

The elevator door opened. Harry's new jacket, with corduroy patches on the elbows, made him readily identifiable even with his back turned to the elevator. Across the lobby, George stood talking to the persistent reporter from the _Chronicle_. Heyes looked back down at his list as he stepped out of the elevator.

"Riding today, up to Telegraph Hill…," read Heyes.

"Hey…!"

Heyes felt his partner's big hand grab him by the collar and spin him around.

"Wha…!"

Kid's fist connected with Heyes' jaw. Heyes' arms flew up and back. The clipboard went flying. Heyes staggered backwards and collided with a box camera mounted on a tripod. A bright, white flash went off. Heyes, the photographer, and all the equipment crashed to the floor. A cacophony of voices rose as everyone in the lobby squawked in alarm. Heyes felt himself yanked upright. He wobbled, staring into Kid's blue eyes.

"No photographs!" announced Kid in a tone of royal outrage. "We ride!"

A hurried about face. Kid half dragged, half shoved Heyes across the open courtyard and out onto the street outside. Kid strong armed his partner into a brisk march. It wasn't until they turned the corner and made it another block away that Heyes jerked loose. He leaned back against the wall of the building and rubbed his aching jaw.

"What did you do that for?" demanded Heyes.

"It's always the little details that make or break a scam," reminded Kid with a hint of a smirk. "That man had a camera and was gonna take a picture. Couldn't chance having it printed in the paper and someone recognize us."

"You don't know that the photographer was there to take pictures of you!" exploded Heyes. Dark brown eyes winced as he touched a particularly sensitive spot. "It takes time to make a photograph. That man could have been there setting up some sort of advertisement campaign for the hotel."

"I couldn't take that risk, that fella mighta got you or me or both of us in his picture," stated Kid. "I had to ensure your safety."

Something in Kid's voice jogged a memory.

"Don't tell me," remembered Heyes, "hitting me was a safety precaution."

"Okay," agreed Kid. The smirk spread across Kid's face. "I won't tell you."

The muscular blond took another long stride down the alley, away from the palatial hotel. He beckoned for Heyes to follow.

"It's the first time since we got to the Palace that we're out on our own, no Harry and no George," urged Kid. "We've been to Freddy's jewelry shop, both his restaurants, and the Chinese laundry place he owns. The only place we haven't been yet is the _Roaring Tiger_. Let's go."

Heyes pushed off the wall and started after Kid.

"You know I didn't hit you that hard!" protested Heyes.

"It's not my fault you've got a glass jaw!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

George hurried away from the reporter. Harry was busy with damage control. She only heard a snatch of his outraged retort to the hotelier as she passed them.

"If you can't ensure your guests privacy," huffed Harry, "Prince Wilhelm will find other accommodations!"

The fashionable con woman reached the white faced photographer in time to put her foot firmly on Heyes' clipboard. Most of the papers were still attached. Sharp eyes noted two pages loosened. One was face down next to the broken camera. The other tilted upwards at an odd angle against the wall.

"Oh, look at this mess," commiserated George in a friendly tone. She knelt down at eye level to the camera man and snatched the paper from his reaching hand. "What were you doing? Do you work for Veronique?"

The photographer glanced across the room at the reporter. George took the opportunity to reach for the second loose paper.

"Not anymore," grumbled the man, "my camera's broken."

George gathered the papers and the clipboard beneath her foot. The slender woman rose to stand, casting a baleful glance at the reporter.

"Why?" asked George.

"Miss Adler wants a picture of Prince Wilhelm for the society column," answered the man. "She's got some story cooking about him finding romance in San Francisco."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true," replied George with a throaty chuckle. "Prince Wilhelm only arrived just over a week ago. I don't think he's had a chance to meet anyone, certainly not romance anyone."

"Truth never stopped Veronique Adler from writing a story," grumbled the man as he began to gather up the bits and pieces of his equipment.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes caught up to his cousin's long strides quickly. The pair stopped at the large ornate fountain they'd seen from the carriage window upon their arrival to the Palace. The cast iron fountain spewed water from a spout inside the lion's mouth. Kid leaned in and scooped water into his hands, drinking deeply and then rubbing cool water along the back of his neck. Even this early in the morning, the heat was starting to pick up.

"You know partner," began Heyes, "I like your idea about going to see Freddy, but there's someone else we oughta see first."

Kid straightened upright. Water dripping from his neck, he beamed.

"You've got a plan," grinned Kid.

Kid's words were a statement of fact, not a guess. Heyes nodded.

"We need to talk to Silky."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	5. Princely Plans?

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Chapter 5: Princely Plans?

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Kid leaned against the door jamb to Silky's parlor with his arms folded across his chest. Heyes pushed himself back from Silky's desk. The twenty-five year old ran his hand through his long dark hair, pushing the strands away from his eyes. Heyes huffed in exasperation. The white haired man seated across the desk facing him squinted and jutted out his chin defiantly.

"That's everything, the whole plan," spat out Silky. "Are ya satisfied now?"

"Silky, you shoulda told us this sooner," sighed the slender man. "If all you wanted was for me to break open a safe…"

"You ain't been listenin' boy!" snapped the querulous septuagenarian.

"Yes, I have been listening," stated Heyes in a quiet tone. He held up a long slender hand in front of his chest and started ticking off the details on his fingers, staring at his fingers as he spoke. "One, Billy was carrying money, stocks and other papers when he was killed. Two, you're sure Freddy is responsible. Three, while the money could be spent, the stocks, deeds and other documents would be difficult to get rid of this soon and are probably in Freddy's safe."

Heyes looked up. The midmorning sun shining in through the nearby window lit up his face. A tight smile that didn't reach his dark eyes spread across his face.

"Did I miss anything?" asked Heyes in a slightly sarcastic tone.

Silky frowned. His wizened face scrunched up. The conman stood up, stalked slowly around his desk until he stood toe to toe with Heyes. Silky leaned in closer, his face mere inches from Heyes.

"Just two things," snorted Silky. "Don't forget, I don't know where Freddy's hiding the documents and most importantly, I don't want anyone else getting hurt!"

Heyes inhaled sharply. The huffing sound, coupled with the men's head to head stance, reminded Kid of bighorn sheep squaring off in a battle for dominance. The fast draw decided it was time for him to intervene before the two schemers started butting heads. He uncrossed his arms and reached out to separate the two men,

"The con, with me playing a prince is to get Freddy over extended," reiterated Kid. "The Prince runs up debts, borrows money from Freddy, and doesn't pay, leaving him without enough money to pay the city taxes and licensing due at the end of June, forcing him to put up one of those deeds as collateral…"

"And you get out," interrupted Silky. "We don't want him knowing your role in the scam. You boys get out of San Francisco before Freddy figures out the scam and you get hurt…"

Blue eyes gazed down at the little man. Kid smiled confidently.

"No one's gonna get hurt," stated Kid.

"Silky, this isn't one of your better plans Silky," sighed Heyes shaking his head. "You don't need all this public folderol with a prince. All you need is a safecracker. Quiet and outta sight."

Silky's little hands balled up into fists. His elbows tight at his sides, he shook his fists up and down at chest level in a fit of frustration.

"I already done tol' ya I don't know where he's stashed everything," shouted Silky. "Freddy could have it at anyone of his businesses…"

"Then I'll break into each one of his safes until we get the right one," interrupted Heyes. "The jewelry store is just begging to be robbed. The restaurants and laundry have even less security. I haven't seen his saloon yet, but I doubt it's gonna be any harder."

"And what if Freddy don't have Billy's documents in any of them places," huffed Silky.

"Then I'll break into his home and look under Freddy's bed," snapped Heyes.

"Heyes, it's gonna take time for us to case those places," reminded Kid in a soft tone. "We could do both plans. While we prepare, I keep playing at being a prince and start running up debts…"

"You forget," groused Heyes, "before you can start to fleece Freddy, you have to meet him first!"

Silky's jaw dropped open. The look of surprise on the older man's face was apparent to both Heyes and Kid.

"You ain't met Freddy yet?" demanded Silky. "What's that fella Harry up to? He was supposed to arrange a run in with Freddy by now!"

"No," replied Heyes. "We've just been running around town."

"Yeah," agreed Kid, "we've gone shopping, and out to supper, and…"

"Good," smiled Silky, "running up that line of credit we set up for the Prince."

"Line of credit?" echoed Heyes. "I thought you were bankrolling this operation."

Silky snorted.

"Nearly all my assets were in that satchel Billy was carrying," replied the scalawag. "I ain't got the money to run this sting. I been calling in favors from everybody I know."

Heyes rocked back on his heels. The slender man brought one hand up to his chin and stroked the stubble as he pondered this revelation.

"How did you set up a line of credit for Prince Wilhelm?" asked Kid in an effort to keep Silky talking and allow Heyes time to do what he did best.

"Freddy has a money lending business," explained the scam artist. "He calls it a bank, but he loans out money at higher rates than any real bank! And if you don't pay, he sends men with brass knuckles to collect."

"Then that's where he's probably got everything," mused Heyes. "If he thinks of it as a bank, he's probably got more security there…"

"Freddy bought a new safe last year," confirmed Silky. "Freighted that shiny black and gold monstrosity in on the railroad, all the way from Connecticut."

Kid and Heyes exchanged a glance.

"Don't tell me," murmured Heyes. "Freddy's got a Pierce and Hamilton 1875 for his money lending set up."

"Well I won't tell you then," huffed Silky.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes ambled down the steps from Silky's brownstone. The door clicked as Kid pulled it shut. Heyes turned on the walkway and started uphill. Boot steps scrambled down the stairs as Kid hurried to catch up.

"Heyes?" called Kid.

The dark haired man stopped. Heyes turned to face his partner. Kid had a troubled expression on his face.

"Did you hear Silky say how he knew Freddy murdered Billy?" asked Kid as he fell into step beside his partner.

"Yeah," nodded Heyes. "Silky caught Freddy out in a lie at the internment."

The two men stopped as reached the corner. Heyes took out a white handkerchief and mopped the perspiration off his brow. It was only late April, but the day was already turning into a scorcher. They waited until a passing carriage moved on before crossing the street.

"Freddy said Billy musta drowned because he didn't know how to swim," reminded Kid, "but Silky said that wasn't possible because he taught Billy how to swim when he was six."

"That's what Silky said," agreed Heyes. "Course I'm wondering what else Freddy said to make Silky so sure that Freddy's responsible."

"I'm still wondering how Silky knew this fella Billy," replied Kid. "You reckon Billy was related to Silky?"

"Huh?" Heyes stopped walking and stared at his partner. "What makes you ask that Kid?"

"I remember learning how to swim," replied Kid. "Pa taught me."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

 _Heyes remembered a hot July day in Kansas. His auburn haired mother declared it was too hot for working, a picnic under the shade tree by the pond was a better idea. Ptol was sent running to the Curry homestead. By the time, Han, Cleo and his parents arrived at the pond, the Curry's were approaching with their own picnic basket, a blanket, and Henry carried a rope._

" _Whatcha gonna do with that Henry?" beseeched eight year old Han._

 _His tall fourteen year old cousin, winked. The rope was tied off over a branch and soon the older children, Henry, Ptol, Maeve, Bridget and Han were taking turns swinging out over the pond and splashing into the cool depths. Aunt Mary kept little Jed close, allowing him to wade in the shallows with Cleo. By the time Grampa arrived, the picnic blanket was set beneath the shade tree and plates of cold fried chicken, three bean salad, cucumber relish, biscuits and peach cobbler were ready for the hungry family. Han was reaching for his second piece of chicken when he heard the splash, followed by Aunt Mary's scream._

" _Jed!"_

 _The rope swung over the pond, ripples spreading. Henry was closest, but Uncle Owen was fastest. It was only a matter of seconds before Kid's father hauled his youngest son out of the water. Startled blue eyes blinked back water. A trickle of blood ran down little Jedidiah's nose._

" _Son," soothed Uncle Owen, cuddling the child close, "if you want to get in over your head, you're gonna have to learn to swim."_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Kid, in spite of your Pa's best efforts, I don't know that what you do can rightly be called swimming," stated Heyes.

"I'm better now than I used to be!" protested Kid.

Heyes pursed his lips, trying to remember when he had actually last seen his partner swimming. The pond up at Devil's Hole was barely deep enough for fish. Even in the deepest part, Heyes could stand upright with his head out of water.

"Sinking like a rock and flailing about until you reach the shore isn't swimming," objected Heyes. "You best stick to skimming stones."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Did you see the way those men handled that fire?" exclaimed Heyes several hours later, his voice ringing in admiration.

Their visit to Silky had been followed by a reconnaissance trip. The partners had located _Frederick Houseman's Friendly Finances._ The loan office closed at six o'clock. It was now well after eight. The partners return to the hotel was delayed by the fire on Second Street.

"The firemen sure put out the fire quickly and no one got hurt," praised Kid with a nod of agreement. "Even when one of the hoses burst."

The burst hose had sprayed onlookers before the man on the steamer truck was able to turn off the water flow. Kid and Heyes jumped in to help the firemen wrangle the twisting, turning coil of cotton and rubber lined hose to a stop. The pair were now sopping wet and smudged with soot.

"And that truck wasn't it amazing?" continued Heyes.

His boots squelched as he turned and pointed back towards the steaming brick building surrounded by bustling men, horse drawn steamers and a ladder truck.

"You've seen a horse drawn steamer before," replied Kid in a puzzled tone wiping his wet curls back from his forehead, "Denver has one."

"One, not three," reminded Heyes, "but the truck I meant was the ladder truck with the crank to make it turn!"

"You just like the name," teased Kid, his lips curling up in a smirk.

"I like the fact that it worked," corrected Heyes. "The firemen were able to keep the buildings on either side from catching on fire."

"The fella that invented that had a really good idea," agreed Kid. Then he added, "I still think you like the name too."

"The name isn't the same," replied Heyes with a shrug as he turned back to face the uphill climb. "I checked it's called a Hayes truck, spelled with an A, just like that politician from Ohio."

Fog, mingled with smoke from the spent fire, rolled up the streets as the two tired men headed towards the Palace hotel. Ahead of them, a carriage turned into the entrance of the Palace Hotel. Kid's stomach grumbled.

"Do you reckon that newspaper lady and the photographer are still in the lobby?" asked Kid.

"The photographer is probably halfway to Wichita by now," chuckled Heyes. "That Miss Adler, I don't know Kid, she might still be waiting for the Prince."

"I'm hungry," grumbled Kid. "The Grill Room serves steaks just like we had that first night. I want supper, but not if some reporter is gonna be staring at us all night."

"Kid, it would be stranger if people didn't stare at us looking like this," reminded Heyes. "They probably won't even let us in."

"The hotel staff is supposed to be known for discretion," objected Kid. "Nobody looked at Mrs. Tolliver twice on Tuesday when she came in carrying that yapping poodle, not even when it started piddling."

"Diego sure was quick to get someone with a mop," chuckled Heyes.

The two men entered the lobby. Chimes rang from the brass clock above the center of the long, narrow registration desk. A youth dressed in the hotel uniform passed in front of them carrying luggage for a portly woman hurriedly waddling towards the waiting elevator. The bellboy's eyebrow went up slightly, but he moved on without a word. The reporter was nowhere in sight. However, George appeared strategically seated at a small square table in the Ladies Grill Room. She had a direct line of sight through the restaurant door to the hotel entrance.

"What if George is staring at us," smirked Heyes.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

George sucked in a deep breath as Kid and Heyes appeared, dripping wet and streaked with black smudges. Kid frowned at something Heyes said, but didn't respond. The sound of their boot heels clicking on the parquet floor echoed across the nearly empty lobby. George took a sip from her china teacup. She looked down at a folded paper on the white tablecloth as they neared.

"George, would you care to join us for dinner?" invited Heyes in a smooth one.

George settled the cup back on the saucer before answering. She clenched her back teeth and forced a smile on her face as she looked up.

"You're too late. Dinner service in the Ladies Grill Room ended at eight," retorted George, trying, and not quite succeeding, in keeping her tone level. "I'm lucky they let me sit here for the past half hour nursing my tea."

She watched as Kid and Heyes exchanged a glance. Kid looked a bit puzzled, but Heyes' expression as he turned to face her was totally unreadable.

"You didn't have to wait up for us," replied Heyes.

"Harry has been searching all over for you two," huffed George. "I've been waiting here all day, hoping you two hadn't run out on us. We can't continue Silky's plan without Kid."

"We wouldn't leave you and Silky in a bind like that," replied Heyes in a low tone. "We ran out on a photographer. None of our plans include being identified."

George picked up the newspaper and waved a photograph in front of the two men. The image showed a close up of Kid's clenched fist surrounded by dark streaks that might or might not be Heyes' long hair flying upwards on either side of Kid's hand.

"Nobody's going to identify either one of you from this picture," reassured George.

The slender man held his hand out towards George. She placed her fingers in his grasp. Her peach colored silk dress rustled as she rose to stand. A rumbling noise sounded from Kid. George's eyebrows went up.

"Kid's hungry," explained Heyes. "He wanted to go to the Grill Room for a steak, but I don't think they will let us in looking like this."

George leaned in closer and crinkled up her nose.

"Or smelling like this," added Heyes.

"They might let you in," stated George, "but I can't go in the Men's Grill Room at this hour. Women can only go in there for breakfast."

"What?" blurted out Kid in surprise.

"Sssh!" hissed both George and Heyes.

The dark haired duo turned to face each other. George found herself gazing into the depths of Heyes' dark eyes.

"There's always room service," suggested Heyes. "Let's go back to the suite."

George smiled. The slim woman stepped in between her two favorite outlaws and slipped her arms into the crook of their elbows, tugging them both closer. Dampness soaked into the thin fabric of her sleeves.

"That's a lovely plan," smirked George.

George bided her time. When they reached the room, an order was placed for three dinners. While both Kid and Heyes went to clean up, George settled herself at the piano and began playing a soft melody. Heyes finished first and returned to the parlor dressed in clean buff colored pants and a white shirt. His eyebrows lifted appreciatively.

"Sounds lovely," remarked Heyes. "I didn't know you played."

"Kid didn't mention it?" asked George. The melody changed to a familiar hymn. "Before I was a jewel thief, I taught piano and played in the church choir."

"Really?" asked Heyes sounding surprised.

The music changed to a more raucous, bouncing melody.

"And I've played for a dance hall," continued George. "But it's hard to make a living playing piano, cons seem to pay better."

Heyes gave a rueful smile and started to say something, but George cut him off.

"Cons only work if we're all on the same plan," reminded George.

"What do you mean?" asked Heyes.

"Harry's been telling everyone that Kid is Prince Wilhelm," stated George.

"That's Silky's plan," agreed Heyes. "If this is about this morning…"

"No," interrupted George. Her fingers stilled above the piano keys. "This is about Lavinia and Diego."

"What? Who's Lavinia?"

"Lavinia Johnstone," answered George. Dark curls bounced on her shoulder as she turned to face Heyes. "The young woman from Cornwall who cleans your room every morning."

Heyes' face lit up in recognition.

"You mean Vinny," replied the dark haired schemer. "And Diego is the concierge. Are they in on Silky's plan too?"

George crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.

"Hmmph! No," snapped George.

Heyes looked confused, or was he only pretending? The door to Kid's room opened and the younger Kansan stepped out, buttoning the cuff of the pale blue shirt tucked into his dark trousers.

"Then what about Lavinia and Diego?" asked Heyes.

"Why does Diego think Heyes is Prince Wilhelm?" asked George. "And why does Lavinia think Harry is Prince Wilhelm?"

George watched as the smile spread across Heyes' face. Dimples deepened. The strategist looked at his partner with a smirk.

"You'll have to blame Kid for that," chuckled Heyes. "He's got a contingency plan in case Silky's plan blows up in our face."

"Don't blame me! I only told Diego," retorted the fast draw. "You told Vinny that Harry was the prince."

"You've got a different plan?" asked George. Her dark eyes widened. "What are you two up to?"

"George," soothed Heyes, "our plan is just a slight refinement of Silky's plan. Just something to keep folks guessing and make sure we all get out of here alive."

"Silky's plan specifically said no violence," objected George. "Why on earth would you be changing any part of his plan?"

"George, we trust you and we trust Silky, but we don't know everyone that Silky's got involved in this scam," reminded Heyes. "I know you said Harry couldn't possibly be the informant, but why?"

"Do you trust Harry enough to bet all our lives on him?" asked Kid.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	6. The Palace Ball

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Chapter 6: The Palace Ball

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"I believe I hear the elevator opening," smirked Heyes. "Harry's back."

Kid, Heyes, and George were finishing up their supper. Kid and George nodded in agreement as they too heard the sounds of Harry's arrival. Heavy footsteps clomped down the outside corridor towards their hotel suite. Harry pushed the door open, leaving it swinging wide, as he stomped into the parlor. The forty year old glowered, his once handsome face looking twisted in the lamplight.

"What did you think you were doing this morning?" demanded Harry.

The conman slammed the door shut behind him. Kid's blue eyes hardened, and he paused, fork in midair. Heyes gave a small shake of his head, blotted his lips with his napkin and set it down, resting his hand on the edge of the table. The genius opened his mouth to speak, but George jumped in first.

"Saving your hide," answered the dark haired woman. "We can't have any photographs taken of either one of the boys. They can't be identified."

"Saving me?" scoffed Harry with a sneer. "More likely watching out for their own hides."

Kid's jaw clenched. The fast draw set down his fork with a frown at the disparaging comment. Heyes' smile tightened, but George reached over and placed her hand atop his.

"Do you really want Freddy to find out you've set up a line of credit with the fastest gun in the west?" asked George. "When Freddy wants his money back, who do you think he's gonna come looking for? Kid Curry? Or Harry Wagener?"

Harry's mouth dropped open. The mustachioed man gulped, and for a moment Harry looked far less sure of himself.

"Kid and I paid a call on Silky," interjected Heyes in a smooth tone.

Heyes nodded at Kid. The younger Kansan's shoulders relaxed,Kid resumed eating as if he didn't have a care in the world. George leaned back in her chair and smiled sweetly.

"When do you think we'll be meeting with Freddy?" prodded Heyes. "Silky was surprised we hadn't already met the man."

The conman placed his fists on hips and threw out his chest. His affronted look reminded Heyes of a bantam rooster getting ready to crow. The dark haired man's smile broadened.

"We've been going around town, checking out his businesses, but as you know, he's somewhat hard to reach," huffed Harry. "You'll meet Freddy soon enough."

"There are two businesses we haven't seen yet," reminded Heyes. "The _Roaring Tiger_ and, one I'm particularly interested in, _Frederick Houseman's Friendly Finances_."

"You'll meet Freddy and see his other businesses in due time," snapped Harry. "Right now, I'm busy setting up the ball. We've got less than two weeks before the big day."

"The ball?" questioned Heyes. "What ball?"

"The Prince's formal introduction to San Francisco society," retorted Harry. "Freddy has grand designs about being in society. The ball will bring him out. It will be the first Saturday in May. You'll meet Freddy then."

Kid's fork clattered as it dropped onto his plate. The dark haired twenty-five year old met his partner's blue eyed gaze. Heyes shrugged. It was the first he'd heard of a ball too.

"A ball? You mean like in a dance?" asked Kid, his eyes widening.

"Of course I mean a dance," sneered Harry. "I've got the _Chronicle's_ society reporter, Veronique Adler, working on a newspaper article that will make this ball the society event of the year. Freddy won't miss it!"

Heyes pursed his lips at the news that the reporter was working with Harry, but his partner's reaction was just as worrisome.

"I don't like to dance," stated Kid.

"Like it or not, you're gonna dance," insisted Harry.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

George's eyes lit up as she gently pushed open the door to the suite a week and a half later. She stepped inside and surreptitiously handed Heyes the telegram.

"Your friends arrived in Fort Garland safely," reassured George.

Heyes flashed her a dimpled smile. The outlaw quickly scanned the message before he shoved the paper into his suit coat pocket.

"A little sooner than we expected," murmured Heyes before turning his eyes back to the scene on the other side of the room.

George's eyes turned to follow his gaze. Kid and Harry stood in front of the bay window. Kid wore a fancy white silk shirt underneath a tan vest. A navy blue double breasted tail coat swayed open gently on either side of his hips. Dark brown trousers clung to Kid's strong legs and disappeared into the polished boots encasing his feet. Harry appeared to have his hands at Kid's throat.

"It looks like Harry is trying to strangle Kid," whispered George.

"Nah," replied Heyes in a low voice. "Harry is just trying to tie that fancy cravat knot. Kid didn't' like the way it tucked into the vest he's wearing."

Across the room, Kid brushed aside Harry's hands and untied the brown and blue swath of silk from his throat. George couldn't hear their hissed exchange, but Harry grabbed the cloth and started over.

"Kid is really not happy with Harry's plan," whispered George.

"He doesn't like dancing," replied Heyes softly, "but what he really doesn't like is our plan."

"But we need to get copies of Freddy's keys," protested George. "Kid agreed…"

Kid and Heyes had cased most of Freddy's businesses. They still hadn't been inside the _Friendly Finance_ building and hadn't yet seen the _Roaring Tiger_ , but for the other businesses, once inside, there was little security. The hard part was getting inside the business after hours unseen. San Francisco was a big, bustling, city. Passersby on the streets could appear at any time, and there was a small police force that patrolled diligently. Additionally, the city buildings were close together. Standing outside trying to pick a lock was too obvious. Breaking a window was too noisy. Both were too risky.

"Kid agreed for us to go after Freddy's keys while he keeps the man's attention elsewhere," nodded Heyes, "but Kid doesn't like splittin' up."

Harry finished tying the cravat. The suave conman stepped back to admire his handiwork. As Kid reached for the cloth around his throat, Harry grabbed Kid's hand and shook his head. Turning towards George and Heyes, Harry stepped closer, dragging Kid along behind.

"It's show time," declared Harry.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"I'm feeling decidedly underdressed," whispered Heyes in an aside to George less than an hour later.

The dark haired outlaw wore his black suit with a white dress shirt, a string tie and wire rimmed spectacles. George wore the same purple taffeta ensemble she had worn upon arriving at the palace nearly a month ago. The pair stood together just inside the entryway to the Palace ballroom. Kid, resplendent in blue, brown and white, stood at the head of the receiving line further inside the room. Harry stood beside Kid, brash in a dark brown tail coat trimmed with red piping and shiny brass buttons.

"I know what you mean," George replied with a low chuckle.

She nodded towards the bejeweled women in line to meet Prince Wilhelm. Diamonds appeared to be the jewel of choice, although glints of green and red indicated the occasional presence of emeralds and rubies. Heavy gold watch fobs screamed wealth from the lapels of the accompanying men.

"Quite frankly," added George, "I'm beginning to think giving up being a jewel thief was a bad career move."

"You weren't really a jewel thief," reminded Heyes.

"I could have been," insisted George.

Heyes stifled a snort of laughter. Chandelier's sparkled in the gilt trimmed ballroom. Soft strains of music wafted across the crowd. A quartet played from the corner dais adjacent to the large rectangular head table on the opposite side of the room. Smaller tables surrounded the dance floor where groups of people mingled, talking, waiting for the Prince to be seated before taking their own places. George tugged on Heyes' arm.

"There he is! Finally!"

"Where?"

George gestured. Outside, another carriage disgorged a glittering woman and a short rotund man. Veronique Adler of the _Chronicle_ was instantly recognizable. Heyes' eyes popped. The tall thin woman wore a form fitting white sequined gown and a mink wrap. The balding man, hat in hand, greasy gray hair circling the shining crown of his head, followed her.

"She's wearing a fur in this heat?" questioned Heyes incredulously. "And that's Freddy wearing a full frock coat?"

"You wanted a chance to get copies of Freddy's keys," reminded George.

Two steps away from the carriage, Harry's friend the reporter shrugged her shoulders. The mink loosened, revealing a low cut bodice and an expanse of creamy skin. Miss Adler gestured in the direction of the coat check. The pair detoured past the ballroom entrance.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Smile," order Harry in a low hiss. His own teeth were clenched in a bright grimace from greeting the couple that now strode away from the receiving line. "Folks don't want to see you frowning."

"My feet hurt," grumbled Kid under his breath. "When's Freddy getting here?"

"I told Veronique to delay him until he was nearly the last," reminded Harry.

Blue eyes narrowed. He recognized Miss Adler, the news reporter, arriving in the corridor outside. The woman stopped briefly and pointed towards the coat check further down the hall. She was accompanied by a shorter man. They returned in a few minutes without their wraps. The man's large protruding stomach entered the ballroom well ahead of the rest of him.

"Is that Freddy?"

"Yeah, but quit looking," breathed Harry.

Harry turned his charm on for the next approaching couple. Kid watched as George leaned against Heyes. The young fast draw hardly heard Harry's gushing introduction.

"Aaah, Mr. and Mrs. Wilbur Johnson," greeted the smiling rogue, "it's my pleasure to introduce you to Prince Wilhelm Heinrich Johannes Ernst Maximillian Blundt of Saxe-Alten-Gutenberg."

Kid turned to face the new arrivals. He smiled, made a formal bow, and then recited the phrase Harry had drilled into him, the only German words Kid knew.

"Guten abend."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Adler and Houseman joined the throng lined up to meet Kid in his guise as Prince Wilhelm.

"We're on," urged Heyes.

He tugged George's hand up onto the crook of his arm. The dark haired woman sighed and leaned against his shoulder. Closing her eyes halfway George brought a fan up to wave before her face.

"Oh Mr. Newton," sighed George, "I feel faint."

"O'Malley," hissed Heyes in a low voice.

"I thought it was Newton?" breathed George.

"That was in Denver," answered Heyes, "I've been using O'Malley ever since the train."

George leaned even closer. Her breath tickled his ear as she whispered.

"You may have to carry me."

"Don't overdo it. You're too heavy," admonished Heyes in a low response.

"Hmmph!"

Despite George's sudden tension, Heyes steered her out of the ballroom. Their goal was the velvet upholstered fainting sofa in the empty corridor just past the coat check. The young man in the coatroom looked up wide eyed at their approach.

"Mrs. Saint Clair is overcome by the heat," indicated Heyes, using George's alias. "Please go fetch her a glass of ice water."

"I can't leave my station," replied the youth, gesturing to the expensive finery hanging on racks behind him.

"Coats are more important than a guest?" questioned Heyes in a tone of disbelief.

The uniformed young man looked torn. George brought one hand to her forehead and gave a little moan.

"Very well, I'll go to the kitchen," growled Heyes. He settled George on the sofa. "See to it that the Prince's companion is taken care..."

"She's the Prince's lady?" blurted out the youth. He looked panicked at the thought of watching over her. "I'll get the water…"

"And a doctor," called Heyes.

The boy disappeared, leaving the door to the coat room swinging as he ran in the direction of the kitchens, all the way on the other side of the expansive hotel. George sat up.

"Hurry," urged George, "we don't have much time."

George and Heyes entered the coat room. The first thing Heyes did was pull the shade down from the drop off window, leaving them in the dim light of the wall sconce. He withdrew a package of red sealing wax molds from his coat pocket. George found the heavy black wool coat hanging next to the mink. She withdrew the heavy key ring and stopped, staring.

"There are eight keys here," stated George in confusion. "Freddy's got the jewelry shop, two restaurants, the laundry, the _Roaring Tiger_ , Unfriendly Finances, and his home. What's the other key for?"

Heyes' lips curled up at George's description of Freddy's money lending business, but he had a different question.

"Are you sure you've got the right coat?" asked Heyes.

George pointed to the white boutonniere on the lapel. The blue ribbon imprinted with the _Chronicle's_ logo was unmistakable. Miss Adler had done her part well, it was Freddy's coat. Heyes beckoned, long, slim fingers urging speed.

"Maybe we'll find out if we ever get copies made," hissed Heyes.

In less than five minutes, George and Heyes were back in the corridor, sitting on the fainting sofa. George sighed and leaned against Heyes once more in her guise of lady in distress.

"Why did you tell that boy I was the Prince's companion?" asked George in a throaty whisper.

Heyes stiffened.

"Why do you ask?" the charmer prevaricated.

"You know what that made him think," answered George. "I love Kid, like a little scamp of a brother, but not like…"

George pressed in closer, her dark eyelashes fluttered. For a moment, Heyes lost his train of thought. His partner's voice echoed in his head. _There's trouble when she starts fluttering her eyelashes._ But Kid had been talking about Clem then. Did the same warning hold true for George?

"It was just something to get the boy moving, I didn't mean to tarnish your rep…," started Heyes.

George's fingers tickled their way up his chest, stopping at his collarbone. She tugged on the lapels of his suitcoat, bringing his face lower towards hers. George's red lips parted in anticipation, but all Heyes could see was Clem. He was unprepared for the kiss George plastered upon his lips. He froze for a moment, then arms flailed wildly. George released her grip on him and pushed back, staring. At first, neither spoke.

"I'm sorry," apologized George. The dark haired woman looked away. "My mistake, I thought…"

Heyes scooted back and away from the slim brunette.

"George, I'm sorry, I never meant…"

"Who is she?" interrupted George in a soft voice.

Heyes stayed still, not speaking for a change. George turned back to look him directly in the eye.

"Who?" asked Heyes, playing dumb.

"The woman you love."

"Oh Lady Luck is the only one for me," replied Heyes, flashing a quick dimpled grin. He raised his hands and waved them in the general direction of the ballroom. "Now Kid on the other hand…"

"Oh."

Something in George's tone stopped Heyes.

"What do you mean? Oh?"

"So that's what you never told Kid," stated George. She inhaled deeply before proceeding. "Does she love Kid? Or is it that Kid loves her?"

Heyes remained silent.

"Or do they love each other and you're the odd man out?" prodded George.

At Heyes continued silence, George frowned.

"Well," demanded George. "Have you asked either of them?"

"Kid says they're just friends," replied Heyes finding his voice at last.

"And what does she say?" asked George. Something in his face told her the answer. "You ought to ask her!"

George huffed and rose to stand. The coat check boy arrived carrying a tray with a pitcher of ice water and a glass.

"Are you feeling better Ma'am?" asked the boy, proffering the cold beverage. "They've sent for a doctor, but it will be a while before he arrives."

George reached past the glass of ice water and picked up the shining pitcher, sweating with condensation. She poured the water over Heyes' head, leaving him spluttering.

"I'm feeling fine," declared George. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a ball to go to."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

George smiled and settled in the chair beside the blond pseudo-Prince at the head table. Kid hadn't touched the soup in front of him. A waiter hurried to fill her bowl. Around the room, the other assembled guests were being served. Kid leaned towards her.

"Where's Heyes?" whispered Kid.

"Don't worry," replied George as she shook out her napkin. "Eat, I'm sure he'll be here soon."

Kid kept watching the doorway. Beside him, George laughed and flirted with the man to her left. The seat between Kid and Harry remained empty. Beyond Harry, Miss Adler sat next to the man introduced as Frederick Houseman. Laughter and loud boastful talk echoed around the ballroom. The waiter removed Kid's bowl of untasted soup a short while later. A platter of asparagus spears intermingled with thin slices of hard crusty bread topped with a shining black substance appeared next. Harry leaned over the empty chair.

"It's caviar," urged Harry. "Try it, you'll like it."

Kid shook his head. The blond remained vigilant. Heyes finally appeared in the doorway just as the second course was being removed. The dark haired man had his hair slicked back and was wearing a different suit from earlier. Heyes made his circuitous way around the room to sit between Kid and Harry as the waiter served slices of meat from a platter of roast beef piled high with onions and potatoes.

"What happened to you?" hissed Kid. "Where have you been?"

"Kid you worry too much," answered Heyes in a low murmured rush. He didn't look at his partner. "Nothing happened, I got what we wanted and took it upstairs. Now let's eat."

Heyes shook out his napkin and picked up a fork to spear a piece of meat. Kid's blue eyes narrowed and he leaned closer to his partner.

"What ain't you telling me Heyes?" whispered Kid.

Heyes head jerked up.

"Nothing," snapped Heyes. "Quit worrying."

Kid flushed at the sharp rebuke. He turned away from his partner and caught George's eye.

"What's going on?" asked Kid with a nod towards Heyes. "He thinks I don't know when he's not tellin' me something. What happened?"

"Nothing," insisted George in an affronted tone.

The woman turned away from Kid. The stubborn young man leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. For a moment there was silence.

"Nothing usually means something," huffed Kid as he straightened and reached for the ornately folded square of linen beside his plate.

"Nothing means nothing!" snapped Heyes.

Kid's jaw clenched. Heyes' voice had gone up just a little. George wasn't the only one who turned her head and stared. Kid narrowed his eyes and looked from his partner to George and back again. Harry leaned in towards Heyes and Kid.

"Keep it down," chided Harry, "you're attracting attention."

"Isn't that what you wanted?" frowned Kid.

Kid threw his napkin down hard on the table and pushed back his chair with a loud scrape. Without another word, the sturdy blond stalked off in the direction of the water closets. The short balding man in front of him never even noticed he was being followed.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Thirty minutes later the waiter removed Kid's untouched plate of roast beef. The napkin remained in a crumpled heap. Heyes and George exchanged a glance over Kid's still empty seat.

"I didn't say anything," whispered George. "I wouldn't."

Heyes shook his head. Their past conversation wasn't his concern now.

"Where's Kid?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Kid leaned over and placed his hands on his knees, gasping for breath as the carriage disappeared from sight. Impulse had led Kid to follow Freddy from the restrooms to the streets outside the Palace. To Kid's mind, the sooner they settled with Freddy, the sooner he and Heyes could leave San Francisco. The rotund man had left the restroom and walked for several city blocks before meeting two other men. The arrival of a horse and surrey a few minutes later was an unwelcome surprise. Kid followed for another block as the beast made its laborious way uphill with the heavy load, but upon reaching the crest, the horse picked up speed.

"Where are you goin'?" panted Kid. "All your known haunts are in the other direction."

Kid straightened up. The tall outline of the Palace was readily visible. Kid stalked back down the street, fully intending to return and listen to Harry complain about him not being at the ball, but the bright lights of a saloon caught his eye. Kid pondered only for a moment before he pushed open the double doors. The sounds of loud laughter, boisterous talk, and tinny piano music assailed him. Somewhere from the back of the room the voice of a woman singing rang out, strong and pure. Kid strode over the first vacant spot at the bar.

"What'll you have?" asked the bartender.

"Whiskey," responded Kid.

As the bartender turned away in search of a bottle and a glass, the tall blond discreetly looked around his surroundings. Most patrons of the crowded dive were turned facing the small red haired woman singing and dancing on a nearby tabletop. Kid understood the fascination. A short black skirt barely reached her calf. Shapely legs clad in black stockings disappeared into low boots tied firmly enough to show the shape of her ankles. The saucy woman swayed with the music, flaunting curves and jiggling to the beat as she sang.

"Two bits," demanded the bartender as he plunked down a short glass filled with amber liquid. Noting where Kid's eyes were turned, the man added, "She's real good at that spider dance."

"Huh?" Kid tore his eyes away from the entertainer. "Spider dance?"

The bartender nodded. Kid reached into his vest pocket and pulled out the desired coinage. The young man barely registered the taste of the fiery liquid as he turned back to watch the woman. The miner standing next to Kid nudged him.

"Ain't she somethin'!"

"Oh yeah," agreed Kid.

The gentle man of action settled against the counter to watch the show and not think about Freddy, scams, princes, closemouthed friends or moody partners. The hard boiled eggs in the nearby bowl, with a hand lettered sign _Free With Drink_ were just an added bonus.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes stepped out of the men's washroom holding a blue tailcoat and a familiar piece of brown silk. George looked at the garments in concern. Beyond her, the corridor that had been empty just moments ago was a chaos of movement. People streamed from the ballroom, some milling about the coat check, blocking the corridor.

"It's hot," suggested Heyes, "Kid probably just went for a walk, to blow off steam. He didn't want to dance…"

"Heyes," whispered George, she reached out to clutch his arm.

Harry burst through the crowd and hurried toward them. The newswoman struggled to catch up with him. A man carrying a black medical bag pushed against the crowd.

"Where's our Prince?" growled Harry.

"I don't know," admitted Heyes. Only someone that knew him well would recognize the signs of worry in his sham calm exterior. "Kid's not here."

"Well we better find him," declared Harry. "And fast!"

"Why? What's your hurry?" snapped Heyes. "He's not going to dance, no matter what you say."

Harry looked at Heyes oddly.

"I'm not worried about him dancing," groused Harry. "I want to make sure he's alright."

"What?"

"One of the waiters tasted the caviar from Kid's plate, said the Prince hadn't even touched it and it was a shame to let it go to waste," answered George. "He..."

Miss Adler pulled up beside Harry, panting, her gleaming eyes wide. Beneath the bright white corridor lights, her face paint was clearly visible. At close range, the clingy evening gown was far less flattering than it had been upon her arrival. The reporter interrupted George.

"That rat Freddy ditched me, but it worked out for the best," gloated the newshound. "Now I've got a real scoop, not just a society page report! The paper will have to print it!"

"What's your scoop?" questioned Heyes with a glare at Harry for bringing her along.

"I might even get front page!" announced the annoying woman in a triumphant tone. "Someone tried to poison Prince Wilhelm! A waiter who taste tested his food might die! Do you think the Prince will give me a quote?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The pretty red head took a deep bow from her place on the table top. Kid wasn't the only one who supplied a wolf whistle in response to the view.

"Thank you, thank you!" gushed the petite woman. She gave a friendly wave that jiggled everything she had, and blew kisses at the crowd. "I love you all, but I've got to go now!"

The dancer hopped lightly down from the table. She scooped a handful of gold coins from the table and pocketed them. Kid watched the curvaceous woman in appreciation. Her performance, singing and dancing for the past hour, had been an absolute pleasure. She headed towards the door. A wobbly drunk staggered in front of Kid, grasping hand outstretched towards the woman.

"Hey gorgeous," greeted the drunk, "I just wanna…"

The red head gasped as Kid clamped his hand over the drunk's wrist, staying the man's hand just inches from her heaving bosom.

"It ain't about what you want," reminded Kid in a firm tone.

The drunk, dimly perceiving his danger, shuddered. Kid looked towards the entertainer.

"Ma'am?" Kid asked. "Are you alright? I hope he didn't scare you none."

"I'm fine," answered the dancer. She made a shooing motion with her tiny hands. "Just make him go... away."

Kid released his captive and pointed the man towards the interior of the bar.

"Usually folks are real nice," confided the woman. "That sort of thing doesn't happen often."

The redhead looked up at Kid, her dark eyes shining bright in the lamplight. Tiny lines crinkled around her eyes as she smiled. A slow smile spread across Kid's face in response. He reached to tip his hat, but then, feeling flustered, Kid realized he wasn't wearing one. He ran his hand through his blond curls instead.

"Would you like me to walk you home Ma'am?" asked Kid. "That sort of thing won't happen with me escorting you."

A soft throaty chuckle burbled up from her tiny body, leaving the young Kansan blushing as he realized how boastful he must sound.

"My hero," teased the tiny woman. Her warm smile took the sting from her next words. "You hardly look old enough to be hanging out in a saloon."

"Ma'am, I'll be twenty-two in August," stated Kid. "I reckon that's old enough for most things."

A wistful expression crossed her face. She reached up and stroked the side of Kid's smooth shaven face.

"I remember being twenty-one," she murmured. "You're right, that is old enough for most things."

As she dropped her hand, Kid took a step backwards, and opened the door.

"Ma'am?"

Kid gestured to the street outside. The curvaceous woman stepped forward and tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow.

"I'd be delighted to have you walk me home," smiled the redhead, "only on one condition."

"Condition?" gulped Kid. He felt her hips press up against him. "What condition?"

"Quit calling me Ma'am, that's what folks call my mother," answered the redhead. "My name's Charley."

"Yes Ma'am, I mean Charley, Ma'am," stammered Kid.

"Just Charley," stated the tiny woman as they stepped out into the night air. "And what's your name?"

"Jed," responded Kid without hesitation.

Moonlight shone on the broad street. Kid paused and looked around, not noticing the woman's raised eyebrow.

"Ma'am, I mean Charley," continued Kid, "where am I escorting you? Where's your home?"

"For the next few weeks, home is at the Palace Hotel," answered Charley.

"Oh good," Kid replied in a relieved tone, turning back to look at her, "I know where that is."

"You're not from around here, are you?" asked Charley. A shake of Kid's head brought a smile to her face. "San Francisco is one of my favorite places. I'll be glad to show you the sights."

The tall blond and the tiny redhead walked down the street towards the soaring hotel. Kid found Charley's arm around his waist by the end of the first block. The woman shivered, and since he didn't have a coat to offer, he did the next best thing and gently wrapped his arm around her bare shoulders. She snuggled in closer. As they approached the Palace, both sets of feet slowed. The front entrance was crowded with milling people. Horses and carriages streamed out of the wide carriage entrance.

"It sure is busy. They had a fancy ball there tonight," sighed Kid, reluctant to return to his role of Prince Wilhelm.

"I heard," answered Charley. She tugged one of Kid's hands, and he followed her towards the side of the building. In response to the question in his eyes, she smiled, "Another way in. I use it sometimes, it's a little more private."

Dusty boot steps left a trail across the parquet floor. In the freight elevator, Charley pushed the buttons for the sixth floor, then she turned to face the younger man. Kid found himself holding an armful of soft, warm curves and kisses. It wasn't until the elevator dinged and the door opened that he found himself gasping for air.

"Charley?"

In response, the redhead tugged Kid out into the corridor. The wide double doors leading to her rooms were very similar to the ones that opened up to the parlor on the floor above them.

"Usually I'm on the seventh floor," informed Charley. She chattered on as she opened the doors. "But the hotel management said there is a German prince staying for the next couple of months, so I'm on the sixth floor this time."

The red head tugged Kid into the suite. He stepped inside the luxurious room and glanced around. The bay window overlooking the city was the same. The ornate carpet had a different pattern, and instead of a fainting sofa beside the bookcase, there was a pair of upholstered chairs.

"Perhaps I should be leaving now that you're home safely," suggested Kid.

The door clicked shut behind him. Kid turned and saw Charley leaning against the door with a suggestive smile.

"I really hope you stay Prince Wilhelm."

Kid swallowed.

"Charley, you got it all wrong, I ain't a prince," stammered Kid. "I'm from Kansas, I ain't nobody important."

"Wrong, you are important," stated Charley, "you're the man that stood up for a woman you didn't even know. I don't care if you're Prince Wilhelm or his bodyguard Jed. You're my knight in shining armor."

Charley stepped forward, hips swaying from side to side as she crossed the room towards him. The tiny redhead placed one hand against Kid's chest. Charley walked Kid backwards, until the back of his knees hit the waiting chair. He sank down into the plush, tufted upholstery.

"Shining armor? I ain't a knight neither…," protested Kid. "I'm just an ordinary man, I wear blue jeans, muddy boots and…"

Charley stopped his protests with a deep lingering kiss. When their lips broke apart, Kid could barely breathe. She licked her shining lips before speaking.

"I didn't ask you here because I thought you were a prince. Actually I'm glad to know you're not some foreigner," said Charley in a soft breathy whisper. "I asked you here tonight because I wanted to. And for the record, all my heroes wear blue jeans and boots, usually muddy ones."

Charley lifted one slender leg, revealing a provocative amount of black silk stocking as she placed a dainty booted foot on the arm of Kid's chair, effectively corralling him.

"If you help me out of my boots," whispered Charley, "I'll help you out of yours."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	7. A Princess in the Palace?

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Chapter 7: Cougars, Princes, and a Princess in the Palace?

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Where is he?" demanded Heyes.

The lithe man stalked across the parlor of the grand seventh floor suite. He ran both hands up the side of his head, pulling his dark hair back from his wild eyes. Upon reaching the fireplace, Heyes pivoted on one foot and strode back across the long, narrow room. The clock on the mantle chimed once.

"Kid's not in any danger," soothed George, "He's just late getting back."

"You don't know that," objected Heyes, without slowing his relentless prowl.

The slender woman sat on the fainting sofa with her feet curled up beneath her voluminous purple taffeta skirt. George hugged her knees to her chest, keeping her legs well away from Heyes' padding back and forth. Harry leaned against the nearby wall, seemingly relaxed, his legs crossed, one ankle over the other.

"Despite what that fool Adler woman says about that article she's gonna write, nobody's trying to harm Kid, or Prince Wilhelm, either one," continued George. "Remember the doctor said the waiter had an allergic reaction, he'll be fine."

Harry raised his hand before him. He stared at his hand as if inspecting it, and slowly ran his thumb across his manicured fingertips.

"The waiter shouldn't have been picking food off other people's plates," huffed the conman in a snide tone.

George shot Harry a glare. Heyes reached the other wall and turned back.

"The poor man might have been hungry," hissed George. "Don't blame him for getting sick."

Heyes flashed a compassionate smile at George as he neared the pair.

"I'm glad to know the waiter wasn't poisoned," agreed Heyes, "but that doesn't solve our problem."

"Problem?" questioned Harry.

Heyes stopped. The dark haired outlaw's muscles tensed. It was all he could do to remain standing still. He wanted to spring on Harry, grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Instead, Heyes bestowed the full force of his glare on the debonair conman.

"Yes, problem!" huffed Heyes. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm missing a partner. Kid's not here!"

"Calm down," urged George. "We'll find him. Someone had to have seen him leave!"

"I am calm!" snarled Heyes.

The expression on George's face froze at his harsh tone. Her chin quivered for the briefest moment, before she clenched her teeth. Raising her head, she turned to look at the bookshelf as if she suddenly found it fascinating. Heyes wanted to apologize, but Harry spoke first.

"After I sent Veronique off," informed Harry in a carefully neutral tone, "I sent word to my contacts in the Barbary. The man I've got in the _Roaring Tiger_ should be here soon."

The implications of Harry's actions set Heyes' already frazzled nerves to screaming. George turned her sharp eyed gaze back to Harry. Heyes could tell from her frown, that they were both wondering the same thing. Was Harry actually worried about Kid?

"Freddy skipped out of the ball early and Kid's missing," growled Heyes. "Are you saying you think the two are connected?"

The suave conman's answer was forestalled by a quiet rapping on the door. Harry went to the door. A murmured greeting sounded, then Harry backed up, beckoning the new arrival inside.

"Come on in," urged Harry, his bright eyes gleaming. "You can tell the Prince's partner yourself."

A slightly built man dressed in neatly creased black trousers, a white shirt with a high starched collar, and a black cotton jacket stepped inside. The dandy twisted the pointed ends of his narrow, waxed black moustache and looked around the room as if casing the place. When his eyes lighted upon Heyes, the man's face brightened in recognition.

"Heyes! What are you doing in San Francisco?"

"Horace?" blurted out Heyes. "Where did you disappear to? I asked Silky if you made it here, but he said the name didn't sound familiar."

Harry's head tilted to one side, his jaw dropped open for a moment in surprise. The conman looked at Horace as if the natty dresser had grown another head. It was a moment before the scalawag collected himself.

"I thought your name was Albert," sniffed Harry.

Horace Beeblemeister, one time member of the Devil's Hole Gang, and formerly self-styled as the Boston Bandit, grinned.

"I use the name Albert Lovelace when I'm working with you gents," replied Horace with a smirk at Harry. Turning back to face Heyes, the dapper man added, "These days, I only use my real name for theater work, and most folks think Horace Beeblemeister is a stage name."

Heyes crossed the parlor to stand before his one-time comrade in arms. He clapped the slim man on the shoulders, rocking him where he stood.

"It's good to see you," greeted Heyes. "Now tell me, where's Kid?"

"Kid?" repeated Horace, his voice ratcheting upwards in surprise. "The message I got was to watch for Freddy Houseman or some German Prince fella to arrive at the _Roaring Tiger_."

"Kid is playing the Prince for one of Silky's schemes," explained Heyes. He didn't say much more, not knowing the extent of Horace's involvement. "I'm trying to find Kid."

"Again?"

Heyes didn't miss the smirk Horace's question brought to Harry's face, nor the questioning look that George directed his way.

"Harry here asked me in, so's I could tell you that Mr. Houseman hasn't been in the _Roaring Tiger_ all night," continued Horace. "And neither has any Prince, German or any other kind."

"Did you see Kid anywhere?" demanded Heyes.

Horace shook his head.

"I haven't seen Mr. Curry since the two of you saw me off on the stage from Wildwood last October," answered Horace.

"Where could Kid be?" groaned Heyes in frustration.

"Course I wasn't really looking for Mr. Curry," Horace hastened to add. "He can be real quiet when he wants to, I mighta missed seein' him."

"Adler and Harry's men were looking for a Prince in a blue coat," reminded George. "They weren't looking for someone who looks to be barely out of his teens, dressed in brown pants, white shirt and a vest."

"Does Mr. Curry have any other friends staying in the hotel?" asked Horace. "Maybe he's in another room."

"We could search the hotel again," suggested George. "Diego and Lavinia would help."

Heyes glanced at his friends in appreciation. The clock on the fireplace mantle chimed half past one.

"There are over seven hundred rooms in the Palace," objected Harry, spluttering indignantly. "Do you have any idea…"

Harry's voice was interrupted by the corridor door swinging open. Kid padded in, carrying his boots in the one hand. Socks on the thick carpet were nearly soundless. The blond's gentle smile grew wider at the sight of Heyes, George, and Harry standing clustered together in front of the fireplace.

"You waited up," started Kid with an excited grin. "You won't believe what..."

Horace, who had his back to the door as Kid entered, turned to face his former riding companion. Kid's voice stopped in mid-sentence and his eyes lit up.

"Horace?" exclaimed Kid in delight. "Is that really you?"

Heyes' eyes narrowed. Horace greeted Kid while Heyes clenched his teeth. The twenty-five year old tried to swallow the pent up worry that had been building up inside of Heyes since he found Kid's coat and tie in the washroom hours ago, but to no avail. All the fear, all the worry, channeled into outrage. Heyes exploded.

"Kid," demanded Heyes, "where the hell have you been?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Kid leaned back against the wall of the freight elevator as it made its slow, ponderous journey downwards. Unlike his previous journey upwards, this time he was putting on his boots. When the door swished open, Kid stepped out into the sixth floor corridor. He gulped. Then, squaring his shoulders, the sturdy blond strode across the hallway to knock gently on the door to Charley's suite.

"One, two, three," Kid counted to himself under his breath. He looked down at the dusty brown boots. If she didn't answer the door by the time he reached ten, Kid determined he would leave the hotel. "Four, five…"

The door swung back to reveal the tiny redhead. Kid looked up at the sound. Her dark and flouncy dancing outfit had been replaced by a pale green robe that clung to her curves. Charley's face lit up with a genuine smile. Without the face paint on it, her freshly washed face looked younger than the twenty-seven years she claimed.

"Jed?" greeted Charley. Her smile broadened. "I'm glad you came back! I thought you had to check on your friend."

"He's fine," answered Kid.

Kid had tried to tell Heyes where he'd been. Heyes reined in his temper while Kid spoke of following Freddy. When Kid got to the part about meeting Charley, Heyes blew up again. Telling Charley his real name, lit the fuse. His partner had been angry about everything after that. Kid never got a chance to explain.

"He don't need me tonight."

"Does that mean you changed your mind?" asked Charley in a suggestive tone. "Would you like to come in and maybe stay a while this time?"

"Um… uh… Charley…," Kid stammered.

Suddenly the story he had thought to tell her, about being locked out of his room, didn't sound at all plausible. And he didn't really want to lie to her. Charley's dark eyes sparkled. The dancer leaned against the door jamb, the motion causing her left hip to arch outwards. The sash holding her robe slipped a bit, showing a bit of cream white silk nightgown. The smile on her face told Kid, she knew how she looked.

"You know, you're the first man I've ever had to ask twice," teased Charley. "Don't you think I'm pretty?"

"You're gorgeous," blurted out Kid. "It's just, uh..."

An indecipherable expression crossed her face. Charley straightened up briskly and pulled her robe tight across her chest.

"Of course, your first time should be...," began Charley.

"It ain't that, you ain't robbin' no cradle," interrupted Kid.

The redhead relaxed back against the door jamb, a smile slowly creeping across her face.

"Then what is it?" Charley demanded with a smirk. "You're not interested in an old maid of twenty-seven?"

"No! I mean yes, yes I'm interested!" exclaimed Kid. "A man would have to be blind to not be interested in you."

"But...?" prodded Charley.

"I ain't the kinda fella you wanna introduce to your folks," blurted out Kid. "And I ain't staying in San Francisco."

A sharp peal of laughter erupted from Charley. She leaned forward and patted a hand against her chest, the robe slipping loose once more. Red curls bounced along her shoulders. Kid wasn't quite sure what he'd said that was so funny.

"My parents aren't the kinda folks you want to meet either. Father's a thief, and Mother... Mother is difficult," gasped Charley, when she regained her breath enough for words. "And much as I love San Francisco, I'm not staying here either."

"Char…"

For the second time that night, Kid didn't get to finish what he was going to say. Charley reached up on tiptoes and grasped his head with her hands, pulling his face downwards. His lips met hers in a hungry kiss.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"I should be going too," stated Horace.

Horace's calm quiet voice was distinctly at odds with the loud, raised voices of Kid and Heyes' recent argument. The former bank robber walked over to the slammed door and pulled it open. Horace looked at the frame critically, before turning to Heyes.

"It needs fixing. You're gonna have to get the hinges tightened soon or the door will separate from the frame," said Horace.

Horace's comment didn't allude to anything else that might need fixing. With a short nod of his head, the former Boston Bandit stepped out into the hallway.

"I'll stop by again tomorrow," added Horace, "see if you or Mr. Curry need anything from me."

Horace pulled the door shut behind him. Heyes stayed rooted to his spot in the center of the room, still staring at the door, while Harry pushed himself away from the wall behind George.

"If you will all excuse me," said Harry in a snooty tone, "I'm going to bed. It's late. I'll need to be up early to check the papers to see what they wrote about the ball."

"Goodnight Harry," said George in a low voice.

"Heyes," called Harry.

Shaking his head, Heyes turned his eyes away from the door. Harry stood at the entrance to his room.

"Monday I'll go to locksmith to get keys made from the molds you took earlier this evening," advised Harry. "It will take a couple of days to get the keys done. If your partner's not back by the time they're ready, I'll go with you to _Be Dazzled_."

Heyes blinked at the mention of Freddy's jewelry business. Although Heyes thought sure the missing items Billy had carried would be found in the safe at _Frederick Houseman's Friendly Finances_ , he and Kid had both agreed that it would be better to wait until after the Pierce and Hamilton Expo to tackle that safe.

"No, that won't be necess…"

Harry disappeared into his room without giving Heyes a chance to say that Kid would be there. George uncurled from her seat on the fainting sofa and stood up. The dark haired woman placed her hands on hips and leaned forward, glaring at Heyes.

"Well that went well," sniped George in a sarcastic tone. She rolled her dark eyes. "You've been snarling at me all evening and now Kid too! What's wrong?"

Heyes lifted his chin up in defiance. Heyes was worried, but he wasn't going to tell George. This con wasn't up to Silky's usual standards. This plan had too many missing pieces of information. A con, just like a robbery, required meticulous research. Surprises could be dangerous. There shouldn't be any surprises, like a possible eighth location needing to be searched, this late in the game.

"Everyone has to play their part in a con. A player can't go running off on his own," snapped Heyes in a sharp tone. "Kid knows that."

"Kid took advantage of an opportunity and got some valuable information," huffed George. "Now we know Freddy's other key might be to a place south of town."

"South of San Francisco?" Heyes threw his hands up in the air. "That's a big area! It's not much information to go on!"

"It's more information than we had before," retorted George. She straightened up. One hand brushed across her eyes before she tucked a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear. Her chin wobbled. "But now you've gone and chased Kid away…"

"Kid will be back when he cools off," interrupted Heyes.

George stood motionless for a moment, staring at Heyes.

"Are you sure?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Kid slowly blinked his blue eyes open. A narrow ray of light shot out from the tiny separation between the window drapes and streaked across the rose colored carpet. The bedroom door was slightly ajar. Kid heard a soft female voice.

"Thank you, but it's alright, I've got the tray." The words were followed by an indistinguishable male voice and then Charley's low chuckle. Charley spoke again. "Yes, I'm starving, I could eat a horse."

A loud click sounded as the heavy door to the corridor shut. A moment later, the bedroom door swung wide as Charley bumped it with her hip. The tiny redhead carried a heavy serving tray. The warm scent of fresh baked biscuits mingled with the aroma of sausage and other tantalizing smells. Kid's stomach growled. He blinked again, trying to clear his sleep fogged mind.

"What?" asked Kid.

The strapping young man sat up and pulled a pillow in front of him. He stretched his right leg out long, trying to reach for the crumpled sheet at the foot of the bed with his bare toes. Sharp blue eyes searched the room. Charley appeared to have been up for a while before he awoke. His discarded clothes were folded neatly atop the dresser near the door. His boots were side by side on the rug below. The other items he carried were nowhere to be seen.

"Breakfast," smiled Charley.

The woman set the tray on a mahogany table in front of the windows and turned to face him. The soft fabric of her silken robe swayed with her movements. His reaching foot stilled, leaving the sheet where it lay.

"I hope you don't mind, but I only ordered one serving," continued Charley. She shrugged her shoulders. "The hotel staff is discreet, but they are human. I'm not married. If someone saw you, and said something to the wrong person…"

The provocative woman blushed for the first time since Kid had seen her dancing at the saloon.

"Let's say I don't want to see my name in the paper because I've had a man in my room," concluded Charley.

Kid nodded in understanding. George's alias as the widowed language tutor to the Prince, Mrs. Saint Clair, had been constructed to avoid such notoriety.

"I should be goin'," stated Kid. He pointed to the upper floor. "Gotta watch out for…"

"It's early yet," interrupted Charley. "I've been up for my morning exercise routine, but the folks you watch over are probably still asleep."

She drew the drapery back to reveal the view. The bright sun shining in the east seemed to indicate another unseasonably warm day. Roof tops stretched below the hotel and down the steep hills to the harbor. The blue waters in San Francisco bay sparkled. In the distance, Kid could see a paddleboat making its way towards the docks below.

"I know you've got work to do, and so do I," coaxed Charley, "but couldn't we have breakfast together first?"

Kid eyed the laden try. A basket of biscuits was identifiable with its folded white linen cloth. The silver coffee pot was accompanied by another smaller pot. Several domed lids covered additional plates.

"That sure looks like a lot of food for one plate," stated Kid.

"One serving," corrected Charley. She lifted one of the covers. "I got one of everything on the breakfast menu. Flapjacks, eggs, sausage, bacon…"

"Mmm," murmured Kid appreciatively.

Charley's eyes crinkled as she smiled.

"A bodyguard has to keep up his strength," she urged. "Stay for breakfast, please."

"Bodyguard?" Kid repeated in surprise, belatedly he remembered her misconception last night regarding princes, knights and bodyguards. "I ain't a bodyguard neither."

"Come on Jed," chuckled Charley. "Do you really think I don't know what you do? After last night?"

The woman sauntered over to the dresser and pulled open the topmost drawer. With thumb and forefinger, she carefully lifted out a long, sheathed knife.

"A knife in the lining of your right boot," Charley stated.

She laid the sharp implement next to his clothing and reached back into the drawer. Again, clasping the miniature weapon with two fingers, she pulled out a shining pearl handled pocket pistol.

"A gun tucked into your back waistband," identified Charley.

"It's a derringer," objected Kid.

"It shoots bullets, doesn't it?"

"It shoots one bullet," answered Kid.

"Then it's a gun," replied Charley.

Kid muttered something rude about the weapon under his breath, but the tiny redhead turned back to the dresser and withdrew a metal object that looked like rings welded together. Charley pursed her lips in a frown.

"I'm not sure what to call this thing of yours."

"It's not mine," objected Kid. "Harry said I might need it in San Francisco. They're brass knuckles. You put them on over your fingers before hitting…"

Kid's voice trailed off as Charley shuddered. The redhead turned back to face Kid.

"You're a dangerous man and these are the tools of your trade," sighed Charley.

"Some folks might call me dangerous," agreed Kid. "But, I would never hurt you. You don't have to be afraid of me."

Charley's face softened.

"I'm not afraid of you," replied Charley. "I knew when I saw you at the saloon that you're not the kind of man that would hurt a woman. I am a bit picky about things like that. A man has to be gentle... kind... smart... a good kisser..."

"And I thought you asked me to stay because you liked my boots," Kid interrupted with a teasing laugh.

"Well, there is that, they're very nice boots, even got an extra pocket in the lining," Charley agreed with a soft throaty chuckle. She straightened her shoulders, providing a jiggle that was reminiscent of her dance routine. "Now I'm asking you to stay a little longer, stay for breakfast. Please."

She waved a hand in the direction of the table.

"You know I can't eat that all by myself."

"I thought you told the waiter you could eat a horse," grinned Kid.

"Oh, you heard that," replied Charley. A mischievous gleam came to her eyes, she licked her lips. She held up thumb and forefinger again, this time rubbing them together. "That might have been a tiny little lie. Won't you help me out?"

"Anything to oblige a lady," grinned Kid, "but on one condition."

"Condition?" Charley's eyebrow arched upwards, her voice sounding suggestive. "Oooh, what kinda condition?"

"Would you hand me my pants first?"

"Do I have to?" Charley pretended to pout, then she winked at him.

She reached for his jeans and sashayed back towards him. As she leaned in closer to Kid, he felt the warmth of her breath on his face and felt an answering warmth that had nothing to do with the unseasonably hot Spring weather.

"I have a condition too," teased Charley. She pointed to the smaller pot beside the coffee pot. "I get the hot chocolate, you can have the coffee."

"Deal," answered Kid. "And maybe over breakfast you can explain to me why you think I'm a bodyguard."

A short while later, the plates were nearly all empty. Kid held a fragile china cup in his large hand and sipped black coffee. Across from him, Charley poured the last of the steaming hot chocolate into a matching cup.

"The way I figure it Jed," nodded Charley after she blew on her hot chocolate, "you, Mr. O'Malley, and Mr. Wagener are doing a fine job of keeping your charge safe."

"Huh?"

"Mr. Wagener has got the press believing you're Prince Wilhelm, and the press has the rest of San Francisco, or at least the part that reads newspapers, convinced of the same," explained the redhead. "Here in the Palace Hotel, though it's a different story."

"What do you mean?"

Kid's blue eyes narrowed. Charley pursed her lips for a moment, then smiled.

"Since the hotel opened, I stay at The Palace when I'm in San Francisco," reminded Charley. "Over the past year, I've gotten to know some of the staff quite well."

"Like who?"

"Diego, the concierge," answered the charming woman with a twinkle in her eye. "He's certain that Mr. O'Malley is the Prince. He says you told him that."

"I mighta," acknowledged Kid. "Who else do you know, and what did they tell you?"

"Miss Johnstone, the head of housekeeping."

"Vinny?"

"Yes, Lavinia said Mr. O'Malley told her that Mr. Wagener was the Prince," confided Charley. "Of course she doesn't believe that for a minute."

"And what do you believe?" asked Kid.

"Jed, I believe you're the bodyguard for the Princess," smiled Charley. "I've heard she's called George. Is that short for Georgiana or something else? "

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	8. Palms and Pearls

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Chapter 8: Palms and Pearls

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The parlor door squeaked. Heyes scrunched his eyes shut and tried to burrow into the cushions of the fainting sofa. The door squeaked again. Heyes opened his bleary eyes, blinked and then looked up at the clock on the mantle. It was only a quarter past ten. His lips curled up in annoyance. Harry and George couldn't be back already! Had they forgotten something?

"Can't you be quiet, I'm trying to sleep here!" snapped Heyes.

The dark haired genius rolled over to face the door, but the sight that met his eyes wasn't George and Harry. Kid stood in the open doorway, swinging the parlor door back and forth, eyeing the way the door hung in its frame.

"Good morning to you too," said Kid in a quiet voice.

Heyes stared at his partner. The young shootist didn't look at Heyes, but remained with his blue eyes firmly fixed upon the door. The heavy wooden door sagged worse now than it had last night. Kid swung the door once more. The door creaked, wood protested as a hinge pulled further from the frame.

"Did I do this?" asked Kid in a puzzled tone.

Heyes pushed up off the sofa cushion and set his still booted feet on the floor. He rolled his aching shoulders and tilted his head left then right in an effort to unkink tired muscles. Heyes had waited up throughout the long night. It wasn't until the early morning light started to tinge the eastern sky pink that he finally stretched out on the uncomfortable fainting sofa to await his cousin's return.

"You didn't break it," answered Heyes with a rueful grin, "but slamming the door didn't help it any."

His partner finally turned to look directly at Heyes. The older Kansan reflected that Kid didn't look like someone who had been up pacing all night or trying to sleep on a hard sofa. The curly haired blond stood slouched in the doorway seemingly relaxed, but Heyes' sharp eyes noted the tenseness in Kid's broad shoulders, and maybe no one else could tell, but Heyes knew, Kid had his emotions behind a mask. The young shootist was wearing his best poker face.

"Kid," continued Heyes with a quiet sigh, "we gotta talk."

"Seems to me you did enough talkin' last night," objected Kid.

Brown eyes winced. Heyes seldom let his mouth move faster than his mind, but last night had been a notable exception. Heyes flushed as he remembered some of the angry words that sent his cousin out of the suite, slamming the door behind him.

"Kid, I'm sorry," apologized Heyes. "I said a lot of things I never shoulda said, things I didn't mean last night."

Kid's blue eyed gaze drilled into Heyes.

"You still said 'em."

Heyes swallowed. The silver tongued wonder flashed a dimpled smile at his cousin.

"Kid we need to talk, and this time I need to listen too," clarified Heyes. "I can understand how you thought following Freddy was a good opportunity..."

"So you admit, I was thinking," interrupted Kid.

Heyes inhaled sharply at the reminder. Had he really accused Kid of not thinking? Heyes cringed to remember some of the words he'd used _...of all the harebrained, thoughtless things you coulda done..._ Had he himself been thinking? Or merely overreacting to a very long, stress filled day?

"Yeah Kid," agreed Heyes. "And I shoulda been listening, not interrupting..."

"Like I'm doin' now?"

Heyes crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at his cousin.

"Yeah."

"Annoying, ain't it?" prodded Kid.

"Yeah," agreed Heyes. His face crinkled up in a frown. "Real annoying."

Kid stepped inside the room and leaned against the wall, avoiding the wobbly door frame. The long legged man crossed one ankle over the other, and continued to stare at Heyes. Watching, Heyes realized. Waiting. Waiting patiently, it was almost like when Kid waited for some wanna be fastest gun in the West to make the first move to draw. Heyes stared back in silence. No, realized Heyes, it was more like when Kid thought he was facing someone that might be faster than himself. Words were Heyes' fast draw. And what Heyes had said last night had been more than just annoying. Kid had been wounded. Heyes took a deep breath, he had to make this right.

"You were right, we need to know more about Freddy, where he goes, and what he does," continued Heyes in a rush.

The older Kansan paused for a breath, surprised that his cousin hadn't interrupted. He uncrossed his arms and shook both hands up on either side of his face.

"But I still don't understand why you told that woman your name!" exclaimed Heyes in frustration.

The mask slipped for a brief moment. A small smile flashed across Kid's face and then disappeared.

"Different kinda thinkin' Heyes," answered Kid, "but like I was trying to tell you last night, I only told her my first name."

"Why did you have to tell her anything?" demanded Heyes as he lowered his hands.

"I ain't someone named Orville or Wilhelm," then using Heyes' words from last night, Kid continued, "but I wasn't foolish enough or forgetful enough to tell her everything. I know it ain't safe to use our real names."

"Then who does she think you are?" asked Heyes. The dark haired man tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "Prince Jed?"

Kid's poker face disappeared completely as his lips quirked upwards in the beginnings of a true smile.

"No. Our misinformation plan seems to be working better than expected," smirked Kid. "Charley thinks I'm a bodyguard for Princess Georgiana."

"What?" spluttered Heyes.

"The staff here in the Palace has been talking amongst themselves," explained Kid. "Since Harry said I'm the prince, and I said you're the prince, and you said Harry was the prince, nobody believes us. Most of 'em have decided we're George's bodyguards."

Heyes pursed his lips as he thought about this new development. He nodded slowly.

"That could work," mused Heyes, "and they're right, if George is a Princess, she might have more than one bodyguard…"

Kid stepped further inside the suite and picked up the blue tailcoat from where Heyes had left it last night. The pseudo Prince shook out the dressy evening coat and shook his head. Draping the garment over the back of the straight back chair once more, Kid picked up the fancy tie and grimaced.

"So how did the door break?"

"Harry held the door open for George," explained Heyes. He stood up and stretched his arms overhead before swinging his hands back down by his hips. "I think Harry leaned on the handle with his full weight. You shoulda heard the cracking noise."

"He held the door open?"

"Yeah, trying to be a gentleman," scoffed Heyes.

"Where is George?" asked Kid.

"Breakfast at the Palace Buffet," reminded Heyes. "You remember, the fancy Sunday buffet that starts at ten thirty? We were all supposed to go there this morning."

Kid's smile disappeared. The large, sunny hotel restaurant adjacent to the Grand Court lined with potted palm trees, hibiscus and gardenias was as well known for its sumptuous Sunday breakfast as its exotic tropical plants.

"And you let her go alone?" demanded Kid.

"George doesn't need a bodyguard, she can take care of herself," responded Heyes. "And she isn't alone, she's with Harry."

But Kid was already out the door.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Kid wait!"

Heyes bolted across the room. The slender man charged out into the corridor. Bright sun streamed through the skylights above. The nearby elevator door was shut. Heyes looked the other direction in time to see his partner disappear around the far corner. Large potted plants and marble statuary blocked Heyes' view. He pulled the lopsided door shut behind him and raced down the hallway in pursuit of his partner. At the next corner, he saw Kid in front of another elevator doorway in the middle of the end corridor. The doors swished open and Kid stepped inside.

"Wait!" shouted Heyes.

For a moment, Heyes thought Kid didn't hear him, but then he saw a familiar big boned hand reach for the side of the door. Heyes sprinted the last few yards and slipped into the elevator. Kid removed his hand and the door slid shut on a small room with bare pine walls. Heyes bent over, hands on knees and tried to catch his breath.

"I didn't know there was another elevator here," huffed Heyes.

"Ain't fancy like the other one," replied Kid. A squeal sounded in the shaft. "Ain't quiet neither, and it goes real slow."

Heyes arched an eyebrow. Kid had the brown and blue swath of silk wrapped around his neck and was trying to loop the fabric in the same manner that Harry had done last night.

"And how long have you known about this elevator?" asked Heyes as he straightened up.

"Since the first night we arrived," replied Kid with a shrug. He undid the tie and restarted twisting the slippery cloth. "You were sleeping. After I got cleaned up and changed into regular clothes, I took a look around the hotel. There are stairs on the other corner and this elevator. Didn't try using it until yesterday though."

The elevator shuddered. The pointer on the metal fly wheel above the door twitched, changing from seven to six as the machine continued downwards. Another squeal echoed setting Heyes teeth on edge.

"Why use this infernal machine instead of the quicker one?" griped Heyes.

"This one opens up by the kitchens," answered Kid. "It won't be more than a minute before we're in the restaurant with George. If we took the other one, well, depending upon the number of carriages in the courtyard..."

Kid's voice trailed off as Heyes nodded in understanding. The redwood lined elevator was a smoother, faster ride to the ground floor, but once there, they would have to traverse the length of the hotel to get to the restaurant. The pointer twitched from six to five as Kid looked down at the mangled material and started again.

"George doesn't like being alone with Harry ever since you said you don't trust him," added Kid.

"What?" squawked Heyes.

Kid's chin went up. He stopped trying to tie the silk around his neck. The elevator squealed again. Kid leaned back against the wall as the compartment swayed, while Heyes shifted his feet to regain his balance.

"You ain't noticed?" demanded Kid in an exasperated tone. "Ever since you asked her about Harry being the informant…"

"Kid, I don't trust Harry any farther than I can throw him," interrupted Heyes, "but I don't think he's a murderer."

Heyes stepped towards his partner and reached for the tie in Kid's hands. Nimble fingers smoothed the crumpled silk and looped the fabric around Kid's neck.

"Mainly, Harry's just full of crazy schemes," declared Heyes. "If there was an easy way to do something, he'd find a way to make it harder."

"Like dressing up as a tramp just to spy on us?" asked Kid.

"Exactly," agreed Heyes.

Cravat completed, Heyes tucked the ends of the cloth into the opening of the white silk shirt Kid had worn last night. He eyed his partner critically. The brown trousers still looked passable, but there was a red smudge surrounding the middle button of the white shirt.

"Is that strawberry jam? If you're going to the restaurant dressed like that," advised Heyes. "You better button your vest."

"Says the man who looks like he slept in his clothes," replied Kid with a faint tsking noise.

"I did sleep in my clothes," responded Heyes. "But you're supposed to be the Prince, people will be looking at you, not me. Remember the plan…"

"In public you've got to look like a Prince," recited both men in unison.

The partners exchanged a glance and shook their heads. Both men had heard Harry's instruction more often than they would have liked. Kid began to button the tan vest. Heyes glanced over his shoulder to see the pointer above the elevator door twitch from three to two, when he turned back to face his partner, Kid's blue eyes were staring at him.

"Heyes, you don't think that Harry...," suggested Kid in a soft voice. He looked down again and shook his curly head. "Nah, couldn't be…"

"What Kid?" demanded Heyes. "I trust your instincts. What is it?"

Kid raised his head. For a moment, Kid didn't speak. Then he let out a soft sigh.

"Me dressing up like a Prince, is sorta like Harry dressing up as a tramp," answered Kid. "And Silky never said this royal pain of plans was his plan."

Heyes mouth dropped open. He had complained repeatedly that this plan wasn't up to Silky's usual standards. Heyes remembered the conversation with Silky, the irascible man insisting, _"I ain't got no more! That's everything, the whole plan!"_ George had said Silky was angry enough over Billy's death that he wanted to wage war against Freddy, and originally Heyes was to help plan the con. Had Silky also been hurt enough at Billy's loss that maybe the older man wasn't thinking clearly? Was this a Silky O'Sullivan con?

"Are you saying you think this is a Harry Wagener plan?" hissed Heyes.

Kid didn't have a chance to answer. The door behind Heyes swished open. Heyes spun on his heels and faced a waiter pushing a cart laden with silver covered dishes.

"Whatcha's doin' in the freight elevator?" demanded the man with a grating nasal accent. "I gots deliveries to make, folks is hungry upstairs!"

Heyes stuck out his chin and tried to sound as snooty as possible.

"Can't you see? We're avoiding reporters," answered Heyes.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Kid pushed past Heyes and the waiter. Moving with an easy grace, Kid's long legs strode towards the restaurant. Heyes hurried to catch up with his partner. In the alcove before the restaurant entrance, Heyes grabbed Kid's wrist.

"Wait up a minute."

Heyes glanced over his shoulder. In the restaurant, he could see George and Harry moving from the buffet table to the small square tables near the windows. Heyes turned back to his partner.

"We haven't much time, we need to join George and Harry," urged Heyes. "Harry thinks you're so angry with me that you might not be coming back to finish the scam..."

"What?" interrupted Kid. "I wouldn't ever walk off, leaving you alone in the middle of a job."

Heyes smiled in appreciation at his partner.

"I know that, but Harry don't. He offered to go with me to _Be Dazzled_ when the keys are ready," grinned Heyes. "Right now, I want you to act like you're still angry with me."

"Won't be hard," muttered Kid.

For a moment, Heyes caught his breath. Was Kid still angry about last night? But then Heyes caught the twinkle in Kid's eye.

"We stick with our original plan, check out each one of Freddy's places," continued Heyes with an answering smirk. "You and I go over to _Be Dazzled_ this evening, but then I act like you never showed. When the keys are ready, I go again with Harry, see what he does."

"What do you think Harry's gonna do?" asked Kid.

"I don't know Kid," answered Heyes. "Maybe nothing, maybe something, but I don't trust Harry and we need to find out what he's up to besides helping Silky get back at Freddy."

x-x-x-x-x-x-

"What do you mean you're leaving San Francisco after the Pierce and Hamilton expo?" questioned George.

Heyes squinted his eyes against the light coming in through the window. Kid sat across from him with his back against the wall. His partner's strategic seating wasn't lost on Heyes. Kid could see everyone in the busy restaurant. Sun shining directly in Heyes' eyes and having his back to the bustling crowd weren't the only things making Heyes feel uncomfortable. His partner had barely spoken during breakfast. When Kid did speak, it was in short, clipped tones. Kid sounded angry.

"The expo will be here in less than six weeks," protested Harry. "You haven't even been to the _Roaring Tiger_ yet."

"Yeah Harry, we haven't," prodded Heyes. "When are we gonna get inside this saloon?"

"It's a gentlemen's club," huffed Harry. "We have to be invited..."

"If you want me to see the _Roaring Tiger,_ then you better hurry up and get me an invite," snapped Kid, "because I'm leaving after the expo!"

George set her napkin next to her empty plate. The pretty brunette leaned forward, a concerned frown on her face.

"What if we're not done, with the… you know…," hissed George in a low voice.

"I'm done," declared Kid.

George glanced at Heyes. The dark haired schemer shrugged. It wasn't clear to him either, whether Kid merely meant done with breakfast or done with the con. The sturdy blond threw his napkin down next to his untouched plate. Kid shoved his chair back and rose to stand. Two quick strides and he turned to look back at his table companions.

"Are you coming?"

Chairs scraped across the floor. Heyes found himself on George's left, while Harry stood to her right. With Kid leading the way, the foursome exited the restaurant. Heyes realized their placement made it look as if the men were surrounding George, keeping her away from the crowd as they made their way to the main elevators. Had they always walked that way?

"My apologies Your Highness," greeted the elevator operator. "It will be just a moment's wait."

Heyes smirked to realize the man was speaking to a place in the air midway between Kid and George. Kid turned to scan the crowded entryway. Potted palms blocked the view. Behind Kid, the elevator door chimed as it reached the ground floor. Kid pivoted back to face the door as it began to open. A small woman with red curls brushing the shoulders of her form fitting white jacket stepped out. The jodhpurs and short heeled riding boots gave evidence to where she was heading. A smile of recognition lit up her face.

"Your Highness," smiled the woman. She gave a graceful curtsy. "It's a pleasure to meet you again."

"Charley." Kid's warm voice lowered, and the first full smile Heyes had seen from his cousin this morning spread across the younger man's face. "It's good to see you."

Heyes' eyebrow went up. George stared at the pretty woman. Harry too, seemed awestruck at the sight of the red head. Heyes had to nudge both George and Harry to get them into the rising room. The dapper conman leaned against the open doorway of the elevator as Kid continued speaking in a low voice with Charley. Heyes called to his partner.

"Are you coming?"

Kid stepped away from Charley for a brief moment. The muscular blond stuck his head inside the elevator.

"See that George gets safely back to the room," ordered Kid. He smiled. "I've been invited to go riding."

Kid turned away and rejoined Charley. Heyes gaped as he watched his partner place his hand against the small of the woman's back. Together, the tall blond and the tiny redhead strode off. The elevator operator looked at Harry, Heyes and George in consternation. The man gestured towards his call box, multiple lights were lit up.

"Are you going…"

"I see Miss Adler," interrupted Harry. The older man pushed away from the elevator. "I've got to go speak with her about the press releases."

The elevator operator took the opportunity to push the button for the seventh floor. The doors closed soundlessly in front of Heyes and George as the redwood paneled compartment began its upward journey. George leaned back against the red paneling.

"I'm surprised that Kid just left with that woman," murmured Heyes.

"After all the things you said last night," huffed George, "I was more surprised to see him come to breakfast with you. Kid being attracted to a beautiful dancer doesn't surprise me a bit."

Heyes started to ask George what she knew of the woman, but the thunderous expression on George's face told him he better straighten out something more important first.

"Kid isn't really mad at me," Heyes hurried to explain.

In the time it took for the elevator to reach the seventh floor, Heyes brought George up to date on their plan and her unexpected role as Princess George.

"We aren't really splittin' up," concluded Heyes. "Kid's just acting angry at me while we figure out what Harry's up to."

"Pretty good act," grumped George as she stepped from the elevator. She lowered her voice at the sight of the repairman working on the door to the parlor. "I know you both, and I believe Kid's still angry at you. And I think you're wrong, Harry's dangerous."

Inside the parlor, Heyes walked with George to the bay windows overlooking San Francisco to remain out of the repairman's hearing.

"Harry isn't the type to commit murder," objected Heyes in a low voice.

"No," agreed George, "but Harry's the kinda person that might make a mistake that gets someone killed."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Looks like your partner isn't coming back again tonight," observed Harry in a snide tone several hours later.

Heyes looked out the now darkened bay windows with his hands clasped behind his back. A bath, change of clothes and a nap had done wonders for his disposition. Heyes merely smiled at Harry's comment.

"Perhaps not," agreed Heyes. "He turned around to face the conman. "If Kid's not back by the time the keys are ready, I may have to take you up on your offer to go with me to _Be Dazzled_."

"Whattdya know," murmured Harry, perking up at Heyes comment. "Me and Hannibal Heyes cracking safes together."

Horace snorted and slapped a hand over his mouth, pretending to cough. The expression in the eyes of the one time Devil's Hole gang member let Heyes know that Horace found Harry's self-aggrandizement amusing. George rolled her eyes and gestured to the food on the dining table.

"Don't you want dinner?"

"No," replied Heyes according to their prearranged plan. "I think I'll go out for a walk, get some fresh air."

"Stay away from Pacific Street," advised Harry. "Or you might wind up finding yourself on a boat to China."

"I'm not gonna get shanghaied," assured Heyes.

The outlaw patted the side of his black suit coat. The side holstered four shot colt cloverleaf revolver was small enough to be concealed. Kid had insisted he carry the weapon when leaving the hotel.

"Don't think I'm going to wait up for either one of you," declared George with a haughty sniff. "I'm going to bed."

Heyes nodded at the slender dark haired man seated between George and Harry. Now that he was done laughing over Harry's foibles, Horace had picked up the card deck he brought and was laying out neatly ordered rows of cards for a game of solitaire.

"Horace," ordered Heyes with a subtle glance in Harry's direction, "keep an eye on things until I get back."

"Sure thing boss."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes was two city blocks away from the Palace when he heard the first footsteps. His partner fell into step beside him as they crossed the third street together. On Sunday night, the streets leading to the finer shops were practically deserted. Gaslights shone pools of brightness on the streets. Heyes nodded approvingly to see that Kid had exchanged the white shirt he'd been wearing earlier for a brown one.

"Where did you get the shirt?" asked Heyes.

"From my carpet bag," replied Kid sounding surprised. "Shops aren't open on Sunday, where do you think I would get a shirt?"

"I didn't know you came back to the room," Heyes answered with a shrug.

"You were sleeping," chuckled Kid. "Snoring loud enough to wake the dead."

"I don't snore!"

"Yeah Heyes," grinned Kid. "You do."

The partners reached the corner and paused to assess the situation. Their objective, the jewelry store, _Be Dazzled,_ sat halfway down the street. The streetlight nearest the shop was out.

"We're in luck," grinned Heyes. "The light is out."

"Wasn't any luck about it," reminded Kid flexing his fingers. "I always have contingency plans for extenuating circumstances."

"You? The light being out is another one of your plans?" asked Heyes turning to look directly at his partner. "Have you been throwing stones again?"

"I find simple plans work best for me, and I usually hit what I aim at," conceded Kid with a nod. He gestured towards the store. "Let's go. I'd like to be out of here before the eleven o'clock police round."

Heyes smiled. The light had been something that he had been worrying over ever since they first cased the place. Heyes didn't know when his partner had found the time to case the shop again, but it was comforting to know Kid had security well in hand. He started towards the jewelry store.

"Smooth move, ditching us to go riding with that woman," approved Heyes. "Your leaving abruptly like that was better than any argument."

"Added benefit, I got to talk and do something fun for a change," replied Kid. "It's the first time I've been out riding since we got to San Francisco."

"You go riding every other afternoon when you go shooting out on Hunter's Point," protested Heyes.

"Bein' driven around by Harry in a buggy ain't the same," replied Kid.

Heyes blinked in surprise. He'd been enjoying their past several weeks in the city. Days filled with riding in fancy carriages to restaurants, shops, the opera and more had been a welcome change from their usual desperate travels. But Kid, in his role of German speaking Prince, hadn't been free to ask questions or talk to folks. If Kid's idea of fun was talking with a woman and a simple ride on horseback, had he enjoyed any of their time in San Francisco? Shaking his dark haired head, Heyes returned his thoughts to the task at hand.

"Did you get the list?" asked Heyes.

"Yeah," nodded Kid. He patted his vest. Heyes heard the faint sound of paper rustling. "And we were right, most of this scam is something Harry cooked up. All Silky wants is his property back. He figures that not being able to sell the property in order to cover the June taxes will ruin Freddy and is all he can do to make him pay for what happened to Billy."

Heyes stepped into the shadowed recess of the jewelry shop door, while Kid walked a little further on, keeping an eye out for the evening police round or anyone else that might show up. The slim man pulled out his lock pick and deftly inserted it in the keyhole. Thirty seconds later, Heyes whistled. Kid followed him inside the shop. The partners moved to the rearmost room of the store. Kid checked to see the window shades were all the way down and shut the door, while Heyes knelt and ran his hands over the old safe.

"I could open this one with my eyes shut," murmured Heyes.

"Good," chuckled Kid, "then I won't bother to light the candle."

Heyes snorted as he started turning the dials.

"We'll need the candle to compare the contents with Silky's list," reminded Heyes.

His partner's solid presence was by his side in an instant. Heyes heard the rattling of the lightshade being fitted into the slot on the small candleholder.

"Sssh," hissed Heyes.

Another click of the dial and the third tumbler fell into place. Heyes twisted the handle and pulled the safe door open. Kid struck a match. The light flared for a moment, and then he held it against the candle wick. The shadowed candle kept light focused on the floor safe in front of him.

"Hmm," murmured Heyes. "Bills of sale, money and jewels, just what you'd expect to see in a jeweler's safe."

"No deeds or bonds?" asked Kid.

"Deeds and bonds would be on different type of paper," replied Heyes shaking his head. "And Silky didn't want us taking any money, we can't prove who it belongs to."

Kid ran his finger down Silky's list. He stopped at an item near the bottom.

"What about a pearl necklace?" asked Kid. He read the line. "Thirty inches long, perfectly matched, when last seen was in a black box with white silk lining with a card marked _For Mildred_."

Heyes reached his hand inside. There were several small boxes behind the trays of loose gems, but only the long narrow box at the rear of the safe was big enough to hold what Kid had just described. Heyes pulled the box out and laid it on the floor by the candle. He opened the black box. Lustrous pearls gleamed on the white silk lining. Faded ink on the tiny card inside was barely legible, but some of the letters could be made out. _F r M ld d._

"I guess Silky was right about Freddy," breathed Kid.

Heyes rocked back on his knees staring at the proof in surprise. He'd almost convinced himself that Silky was loosing his touch, that the septuagenarian was wrong about the businessman Frederick Houseman. He raked his fingers through his dark hair as he thought about the implications of this necklace being here.

"No guessing about it," agreed Heyes finally. "And we've learned something important about Freddy."

"That he's a thief and a murderer?"

"We've learned that Freddy is a _greedy, over confident,_ thief and a murderer," emphasized Heyes. "He could have separated these pearls, kept them or sold them one by one, but keeping them together like this, in the same box, with the card…"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"I never thought I'd see this necklace again," quavered Silky staring down at the pearls. It was a moment before he added in a soft whisper, "Mildred was Billy's mother. I gave her these pearls when I asked her to marry me. Happiest day of my life."

Kid and Heyes exchanged a glance. Kid nudged his partner, the silent gesture urged Heyes to ask the question they both dreaded.

"Silky," prompted Heyes in a gentle tone, "was Billy your..."

"My son?" Silky looked up as he realized what was in their minds. The conman shook his head, "No. I wish, I loved that boy like he was my own!"

For a moment, Silky's eyes seemed to be lost, gazing back in time perhaps, dwelling on happier memories.

"Mildred threw the pearls in my face when she found out where I got them," sighed Silky. "She packed up the boy that night and disappeared. It wasn't until after she passed on a few years ago that Billy contacted me again."

The white haired conman looked back down at the box of pearls open upon his desk. His chin quivered a moment and then steadied. Silky tilted his head back up and faced the partners with eyes firm with resolve.

"You didn't take anything else, did you?"

"No, none of the other documents on your list were there," answered Heyes. "And I placed an empty box in the space where this one was, so Freddy or his jeweler may not even notice the pearls are missing for a while."

"Good," nodded Silky. His chin jutted out. "We're gonna need time to go through Freddy's other businesses. I want that man ruined!"

"We'll get him Silky," promised Heyes.

Together Kid and Heyes hurried down the steps of Silky's brownstone and turned towards the distant Palace. They walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, for most of the return journey. The partners stopped once to get out of the way of a racing fire wagon.

"I don't see how Silky can square it," stated Kid.

"Huh?" Heyes looked up.

"Financial ruin? For taking a life?" asked Kid. "It don't sound like enough. I keep expecting Silky to ask me to call Freddy out."

"There isn't any getting square with a murderer, and Silky knows that," reminded Heyes. "Best a man, or the law, can do is to stop the murderer from doing it again."

When they reached the hotel, Heyes followed Kid to the freight elevator. Heyes' eyebrows went up when he saw the number Kid pushed.

"Six?"

"Charley invited me to stop by again after her dance routine finished up," answered Kid. "It should be perfect timing."

"She might not be back yet," prodded Heyes.

Kid shrugged.

"I'll chance it. Besides, I'm supposed to still be mad at you," reminded Kid. "So it wouldn't be good for Harry to see us walking in together all friendly like."

The elevator door swished open and Kid stepped out onto the sixth floor. Kid rapped softly on a nearby door as the freight elevator squealed. Heyes stepped sideways trying to see out the crack of the closing door. A slender arm reached out and tugged his partner into the suite as the elevator door shut. It wasn't until the elevator started clanking it's downward journey that Heyes realized he hadn't pushed the button for the seventh floor. Despite his attempts to redirect the elevator, the ponderous machine continued down. The door swished open on the ground floor to reveal the same waiter from earlier this morning.

"Youse again!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	9. Hot Time in the City

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Chapter 9: Hot Time in the City

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Oooh! Look at all that!" gloated Harry Wednesday night.

The forty year old conman's eyes gleamed with avarice. Harry stretched a hand out towards the newly reopened safe. Heyes batted the grasping fingers away.

"We don't want to tip Freddy off that his businesses are being searched or those keys you had made won't do us a bit of good," admonished Heyes.

"Stores get robbed all the time," objected the blond crook. Harry reached his hand forward again. "Freddy will never know…"

"Harry."

The tension between Heyes' shoulder blades released at the sound of Kid's quiet voice. Harry's eyes widened in surprise. The opportunistic conman froze.

"I thought you weren't gonna be here," whispered Harry.

Kid's blue eyes surveyed _Be Dazzled's_ back room. The shootist walked over to the nearest window and pulled the shade down a smidgen further.

"You thought wrong," answered Kid. "Now get your hands outta there like Heyes told you."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"I shoulda had you bring Harry tonight," muttered Kid late Friday evening.

Kid's words brought a smirk to Heyes' face. The tiny shack facing the docks could hardly be called a restaurant. _Beer and Sausages_ closed an hour after sundown. Most of the waterfront workers had gone by then. Only a few men hung around the corner barroom further down the road.

"Harry? In this part of town?" Heyes snorted.

The partners ordered beer while they cased Freddy's squalid eatery one final time. As fog crept up the city streets the two men took turns spilling their drinks in a semblance of drunkenness. At nearly midnight, the barman ordered them out and began scrubbing the beer soaked counter. The Kansans pretended to stagger outside arm in arm, seemingly holding each other upright. It wasn't until the cousins reached the alley leading behind the row of buildings that they straightened up and dodged into the darkness.

"Yeah, you're right. Harry wouldn't be here unless he knew there was money in the safe," agreed Kid with a soft chuckle. "A lot of money."

The strategist looked sideways at his partner as they made their stealthy approach to the rear of the restaurant. Kid, dressed in black trousers and a dark red open necked drawstring shirt, nearly disappeared in the moonless night. Heyes had left his fancy black suit in the hotel tonight. Dressed for concealment, he wore his more familiar western attire, a dark vest over a black button down shirt and brown trousers.

"It didn't look like the sausage man was doing much business," nodded Heyes. "Most people just went to the front window and ordered something to go. I didn't see anyone go into the place."

"Me neither," agreed Kid. "The only time the front door opened was when the fella closed the place and left."

A rat scuttled away at their approach, disappearing into a crevice.

"What is that smell?" asked Kid as they reached the doorway.

Heyes pulled the key ring from his pants pocket. Only seven keys remained. The one used to bring Harry into _Be Dazzled_ was now tucked away in a drawer of Silky's desk. Heyes inserted the first key, jiggled it and grimaced. The second, third, fourth and fifth keys all had the same result. The sixth key twisted easily. The door opened.

"Ooh!" exclaimed Kid. "It's worse now!"

The muscular blond's lips curled up in disgust and he took a step backwards. Heyes wrinkled his nose, trying not to breathe the malodorous air rolling out of the windowless rear room.

"The smell must be coming from inside," hesitated Heyes. "Sometimes food goes bad in the kinda heat we've been having, you know, milk souring..."

"This place don't sell milk," interrupted Kid. "Just beer and those sausages…"

"Wurst," clarified Heyes.

Kid looked puzzled.

"I don't know if they're the worst or not," replied Kid. "I didn't try 'em."

"Wurst is a type of sausage," explained Heyes.

"Whatever it is, it smells like something rotting," grumbled Kid.

Kid waved his hand in front of his face. Heyes took off his hat and waved it, trying to dissipate the stench, hoping to push fresh air inside.

"We can't stand out here all night," stated Heyes. "Come on."

The slender man smirked, and then raised the black neckerchief around his throat to cover his nose. Kid narrowed his eyes. The Adam's apple on his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

"Remind me to bring that fancy necktie the next time we break in to one of Freddy's places," groused Kid.

"Quit complainin' Kid," chuckled Heyes as he stepped inside.

"You just hurry up and get that safe open," urged Kid as he followed Heyes inside. "I'm holding my breath here."

"For someone that's holding his breath, you're talking an awful lot Kid," grinned Heyes.

The door closed, leaving the partners in near total darkness. Heyes heard the rustle of hand against fabric as Kid reached into his pocket. A matchstick scraped against the doorframe, light flared as Kid put the match to the candle wick. A dusty black safe sat in one corner of the room. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling and draped the closed door to the front of the shack.

"It don't look like anybody put the sales money in there today," stated Kid. "Do you reckon they still use this safe?"

"There might be something inside, we won't know until it's open," replied Heyes.

The safecracker pulled down his neckerchief. The smell wasn't as bad on this side of the room, or maybe he was getting used to the odor. Removing the bandana from his neck, the meticulous man began to wipe down the old safe. Finally, he leaned in close to place his ear against the cold metal. Heyes closed his eyes and tried to focus only on the tiny metal clicks.

"There's a deed in here," stated Heyes when he opened the old safe. "Nothing else."

He pulled the heavy paper out. Kid brought the candle close enough to read the document.

"It's the deed to this place," exclaimed Heyes in surprise. A long finger tapped the address, and then moved to the owner's name. "Friedrich Hausmann. Do you reckon that Freddy Houseman is really Friedrich Hausmann?"

Kid shrugged. Heyes pursed his lips thoughtfully.

"Silky said not to touch any of Freddy's money," mused the genius.

"Silky also said he wanted deeds, didn't say whose deeds," grinned his partner.

Heyes nodded, tucked the deed inside his vest and rose to stand. He pointed to the doorway leading to the front of the building.

"Might be another safe in there," suggested Heyes. "They've got to keep the sales money someplace. Let's check it out."

Heyes pushed the safe shut and spun the dial. Although the clean safe would be a dead giveaway to the fact that someone had broken in, a person would have to open the safe to know the deed had been taken. Heyes stood up and stepped forward. The odor seemed fainter as the partners approached the door to the front room. Kid slipped the shade into the rim of the candleholder and lowered the candle. Heyes gently pulled the door open. They could see well enough to make out three wooden crates of bottles beside an upturned barrel, bare counters, and stuffed sausages hanging from the ceiling.

"No chairs or tables," observed Kid, "no wonder no one came inside."

"No safe either," stated Heyes. "Maybe they take the sales money to the bank after closing. I really don't see any place else to hide Silky's documents."

Kid nudged Heyes. Through the window they could see the barman at the corner saloon locking up. The man held a lantern in his hand and turned towards the street. Kid blew out the candle.

"Time to leave."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Silky frowned and held the corners of the deed to _Beer and Sausages_ by his fingertips. Heyes took the key to the eatery off the heavy black metal keyring and laid it on the conman's desk.

"Freddy Houseman was already in San Francisco when I arrived," muttered the white haired man. "I ain't never heard him called anything else, and everybody knows he owns _Beer and Sausages_."

"The name Hausmann sounds like it might be Prussian," mused Heyes. "If Harry knew that, maybe that's why he had Kid set up as a German Prince."

"Huh?" asked Kid.

"If Harry thought Freddy was originally from one of those countries that joined together to become Germany, maybe…"

"Harry ain't got that kinda smarts," harrumphed Silky. The white haired head shook. "I thought he wanted to impress that stuck up reporter lady, and Harry thought royalty might do it."

Heyes and Kid exchanged a surprised look. Although Harry had been toadying up to Miss Adler, they hadn't noticed any semblance of attraction. Kid shrugged his shoulders. Heyes smiled and decided to change the subject.

"What about the deed?" asked Heyes. His eyes twinkled with mischief. "Do you want us to put it back?"

"No. I think I'll just hang on to this deed for a while," the wily conman grinned. "It will be interesting to see if a police report turns up in the paper."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Nothing in the paper all week about _Beer and Sausages_ getting robbed," declared Heyes.

The dark haired emissary thumped _The Chronicle_ down on the dresser in front of his partner. As Kid reached across the dresser for the brown and blue silk draped over the mirror, Heyes caught a glimpse of shining metal in the shoulder holster beneath Kid's tan vest.

"What have you got planned for today?" asked Heyes.

"Escorting _Princess George_ to the chocolate shop. Again," replied Kid rolling his blue eyes. George enjoyed playing her new role for the benefit of the hotel staff, but she was pressing Kid's patience with her demands. Kid fumbled the slippery fabric. "You?"

"Telegraph office," answered Heyes in a low voice. "See if Wheat's sent anything. Then go get tickets for the Pierce and Hamilton Expo. I'll see you this evening, midnight at _Fred's Chophouse."_

Heyes reached for the silk, but Kid stepped back quickly, he gave a quick nod towards the mirror before his face changed. Kid glared petulantly. Heyes glanced sideways into the mirror to see Harry watching from the doorway.

"Fine," snapped Heyes, pivoting on his heels, he pushed past Harry out into the parlor. "Tie it yourself!"

"Guess he don't need your help!" snickered Harry.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"What took you so long?" asked Kid.

"Horace's rehearsal ran late," grumbled Heyes. "He didn't get to the Palace until nearly midnight. I left him and George keeping an eye on Harry."

Heyes joined his partner. The two men leaned against the wide plank wall of a hardware store. From their vantage point, they could see inside the brightly lit dining hall. Scantily clad waitresses scrubbed down tables and carried loads of dirty dishes to the rear.

"Just as well," replied Kid. The loose ends of the inexpertly tied silk cloth around his neck fluttered in the light breeze as he spoke. "The restaurant changed to summer hours starting this evening."

"It ain't summer yet," huffed Heyes.

"With this heat wave, it sure feels like summer," objected Kid.

"Hmmph!" Heyes crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. "It will probably be another half hour or so before everyone's gone."

"Yep," agreed Kid.

"We should leave and come back another night," suggested Heyes.

"When?" asked Kid.

Heyes glanced at his taciturn partner. The security conscious man looked relaxed, as if he could lean against that wall for hours. Heyes thought about Kid's question. Harry still had Kid, in his role as Prince Wilhelm, showing up for society functions. Prince Wilhelm had been paraded about every day the past week. And that pesky newswoman wrote silly articles after every event. The coming days had a trip to the theater Saturday and Sunday dinner at someone's estate scheduled already. Monday they were going to Freddy's laundry business, but Heyes knew Harry had plans for the rest of the week.

"Okay, you're right, we wait," replied Heyes with a sigh.

It was nearly two before the safecracker stepped up to the front door of the now darkened chophouse. He quickly tried the keys and then hissed in annoyance when none of them worked.

"Good thing I've got my picks," grumbled Heyes.

A minute later the Kansans were inside. Kid pointed toward a rear corridor. Heyes nodded in agreement and followed his partner. The corridor turned to the left and the partners found themselves facing the office.

"The door is already open," whispered Kid. "Why?"

Light shining through the window showed a desk, an empty chair, some shelves and an older model Booker safe.

"Heyes," Kid beckoned, "let me try those keys on this door."

"You gonna lock us in Kid?" chuckled Heyes.

"They gotta go to something here," insisted Kid.

Heyes nodded and handed over the heavy key ring. He flexed his fingers and arms before kneeling in front of the safe.

"Got it!" echoed two voices a few minutes later.

Kid turned the lock with the last key on the ring just as Heyes pulled the safe open. The partner's grinned at each other. Leaving the locked door, Kid moved forward to join Heyes. The two men peered inside.

"Is that...?" asked Kid.

Heyes' slim hand reached past the stacks of money for the heavy documents in the rear.

"Stocks and bonds," identified Heyes. His eyes widened at the sound of footsteps in the corridor. "Kid!"

Kid sprang to the rear window. He gestured for Heyes to follow and then turned to raise the glass. Heyes stuffed the documents inside his vest and pushed the safe shut. The doorknob rattled and a voice grumbled " _Who locked the door?"_ Mild oaths mingled with the sound of keys jangling on the other side of the office door.

"Head for Clay Street," advised Kid as Heyes climbed through the opening. "You can catch the railcar going uphill."

"Cable car Kid," responded Heyes as he dropped to the ground below. "They call it a cable car in San Francisco."

"I don't care what they call it as long as you get outta here!"

"Kid?" Heyes stared at his partner. Kid still stood in the office. "Come on!"

"Not until you get past that corner," growled Kid, "Get moving. I'll see you at Silky's."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"You're gonna wear a hole in the carpet," observed Silky.

Heyes stopped pacing and glared at the septuagenarian. Silky stood next to his desk, hand on the papers Heyes had retrieved, the window behind him. Rays of pink and orange light shimmered on the eastern horizon. Silky gulped and raised a finger to tug on the stiff white collar circling his neck.

"Of course I ain't too fond of that carpet anyway," conceded the white haired conman.

The front door squeaked, stopping further conversation. Heyes dashed to the foyer, followed by Silky.

"Kid! I heard shots!" breathed Heyes in relief. He fired off a volley of questions. "Are you all right? What happened? Where have you been?"

"Can I sit down first?" asked Kid. At Heyes' concerned look, he added, "I've been on my feet all night."

The tall blond stepped inside Silky's home. Kid pushed the door shut behind him, his shoulders lowered and he exhaled a tired sigh. The silk tie, now reddened, was wrapped around his left hand.

"You're hurt!" exclaimed Heyes.

"There's a chair in the study," urged Silky.

In a matter of minutes, Kid settled into the overstuffed chair facing Silky's desk. He rested his injured hand on the arm of the chair. Kid's blue eyes lit up when he saw the heavy papers taken from the safe.

"Did we get 'em?" asked Kid. "Are we done?"

"You boys got my stocks and bonds," nodded Silky with a wry smile. "We're making progress, but you ain't supposed to be getting hurt."

"What happened Kid?" demanded Heyes. "I heard shots…"

"Heyes, you mighta heard one shot," interrupted Kid, "but I didn't shoot anybody, if that's what's worrying you."

"Actually," retorted Heyes, "I was more worried about someone shooting you!"

The slender dark haired man lifted Kid's hand and began to unwrap the fabric stiffened by dried blood. Kid winced.

"I ain't shot!"

"Lemme get some water for that," muttered Silky.

Kid tried to pull his hand away from Heyes' grasp as the spry white haired man hurried out of the study, leaving the partners alone.

"Why did you wait?" demanded Heyes in a soft, worried tone. "What took you so long to get to Silky's?"

Kid regarded his partner for a moment before answering.

"Heyes, I had to stick around long enough for the fella at the door to see me running away, and not in the direction of Clay Street," explained Kid. "And I didn't take the train up all them hills. It's a long walk from Fred's Chophouse to Silky's."

"What else?" prodded Heyes. "What happened? I know I heard a shot!"

"He got off a shot, but that ain't..."

The last loop of fabric peeled away to reveal a gash across Kid's palm. Heyes swallowed. A broad smile dimpled his face as he sagged back against Silky's desk. He dropped his eyes to the stained fabric in his hands.

"Looks like this is ruined Kid," observed Heyes.

"Good," deadpanned Kid. "I never did like that thing."

Heyes smirked. Kid's blue eyes twinkled. It would be hard to tell who guffawed first. Silky returned with a bowl of water and some clean linen in time to hear their relieved laughter.

"What's so funny?" spluttered the conman.

After Kid's left hand was washed and bandaged, the tall blond stood up and reached into his right pocket. He withdrew the iron key ring, separated the key to _Fred's Chophouse_ back office from the others and laid it on Silky's desk before handing the key ring back to Heyes.

"I'm tired," acknowledged Kid. "I have to take _Princess George_ for a buggy ride this afternoon and then I've got to get _Prince Wilhelm_ ready to go to the theater tonight. So if you two don't mind, I'm going back to the hotel to get a little sleep first."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Youse again!"

The waiter huffed with impatience as he hauled his empty breakfast cart out of the freight elevator. Heyes followed Kid inside. The compartment smelled faintly of syrup and bacon. The tall blond slumped against the wall and closed his eyes.

"Stay awake until we get to the room," teased Heyes. "You can't go to sleep standing up."

Kid's eyes opened. The calm blue depths drilled into Heyes.

"Don't bet on it," advised Kid. "You might lose."

"Hmmph!" snorted Heyes.

Heyes jabbed the button for the seventh floor. Kid reached for the panel and pressed the button for six. The elevator squealed as it began its ponderous progression upwards. The two men stared at each other. The tactician leaned back on the opposite wall and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Six? Why are you going there?" prodded Heyes.

"In case Harry's up," answered Kid, "I don't want to arrive at the same time you do."

The exhausted shootist yawned. The hydraulic machinery squealed a protest. Heyes frowned. Kid's eyelids blinked, and then lowered. Heyes found himself wondering if Kid really could sleep standing up.

"Kid..."

The door swished open. Kid stepped out onto the sixth floor and then turned to look at Heyes.

"Heyes, I know I said living in a war zone ain't safe," stated Kid shaking his head, "but San Francisco ain't safe neither. I'll be real happy to get back to Wyoming."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Kid, wake up," urged Heyes later that evening. "We're almost back at the Palace."

"I don't see how he could possibly sleep so much," grumbled Harry.

"Sssh," George elbowed Harry in the ribs. "Like you have any room to talk! You snored through most of the play!"

Heyes shot a glare at the older man sitting across the carriage from Heyes and his partner. Heyes shook Kid's shoulders. The snuffling sounds stopped. Kid blinked and sat up straight.

"We'll be at the hotel in another couple of minutes," informed Heyes.

"Already?"

"The show's over," smiled Heyes. "Do you remember anything about the play?"

"Horace's play," nodded Kid. "Horace had his first speaking role in San Francisco tonight."

Horses slowed to a walk as the carriage entered the Palace courtyard. Heyes shook his head with a wry smile. Kid was exhausted, yet he remembered their friend's excited talk. George leaned forward across the space separating the two bench seats.

"And he'll be performing with Lawrence Barrett next month," exclaimed the brunette in excitement. "I can't believe it! The Booth Theater, coming here! All the way from New York City!"

"If we're still in San Francisco then," agreed Heyes, "I'd like to see that performance too."

"The play by that Shakespeare fella you like," nodded Kid. He yawned again. "Henry the Fifth."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Now," urged Kid Monday night.

The solitary man walking ahead of them stepped around the corner and vanished from sight. The partners slipped into the narrow alley that led towards the back entrance of Houseman's laundry business. Crowded buildings in this part of town leaned in towards each other, rooftops seemingly lending support from one hovel to the next. Heyes held Freddy's keys in hand.

"Kid, I think you're taking this acting like you're angry with me just a bit too far," suggested Heyes. "I haven't heard from you since Friday. I was really wondering if I was gonna see you tonight."

"Horace brought your message," hissed Kid in a low tone. "I'm here tonight, ain't I?"

"Glad you could make it," replied Heyes rolling his eyes. In a soft voice, he continued, "You sound angry."

"Keeping up appearances, in case Harry shows up," replied Kid. "Did you know he's been following me?"

Heyes' eyebrows went up at that bit of unexpected information. He shook his head.

"Any idea why?" asked Heyes.

"No," huffed Kid, "and Harry up to something I don't know about worries me."

The slender man knelt in front of the door. For an aging laundry business, the decrepit building had an unusually new lock. Heyes shook his dark hair back from his eyes.

"You're blocking my light Kid, move, would ya?"

Kid didn't budge.

"Can't, this is the only place I can cover both ends of the alley without taking a chance of shooting you," answered Kid.

Heyes sucked in a deep breath. This was one reason why he and George had gone to the trouble of getting the molds for Freddy's keys. Standing outside a door in a crowded city was too big a risk. He inserted the first key and tried to turn it to no avail. Nimble fingers pulled it out and slid the second key inside. It didn't move. The third key worked. A relieved smile flitted across Heyes' face. He stood up and pushed the door open.

"Why don't we go inside then," smiled Heyes. "The back office is waiting."

"After you," smirked Kid with a gracious sweep of his hand.

Inside, Heyes hurried to the safe, while his partner moved forward to check the windows and doors.

"Did you hear that?" whispered Kid.

"What?"

Kid placed a finger to his lips and shook his head.

"I'll check the front rooms," said Kid in a low voice. "Hurry up, so we can get outta here."

"Don't rush me," hissed Heyes.

The old safe was hardly a challenge. Heyes had the black box open in a few short minutes. Candlelight revealed dark piles of money. Heyes turned his head and looked at the darkened opening leading to the front rooms.

"Kid?" called Heyes.

"Heyes," responded his partner's voice. "Would you come here?"

Wondering what kind of trouble Kid had found, Heyes cautiously entered the front room. Much like a bank teller's station, there was a counter in the middle of the front room separating the customer's entrance from the workers area. A water pump, three large tubs, one equipped with a crank wringer, and several ironing boards with flat irons were set up behind the counter. Neatly tied up packages of laundry awaited pickup on a second counter against the wall. Kid stared at the second counter with a puzzled expression on his face.

"What's wrong Kid?"

"It don't look right," answered the muscular blond. "The corridor between the back room and this room…"

Heyes realized what his cousin meant.

"There's got to be a hidden room," exclaimed Heyes in excitement.

He stepped forward and began tracing his hands over the wall, caressing its surface as if it were a safe. Heyes paused to tap on the wall every couple of feet. He listened carefully, expecting a hollow sound to identify an opening. When something tapped back, Heyes startled. Leaping backwards his hands connected with the dividing counter. He bumped a small lever. A false wall slid open to reveal a long, narrow, windowless room. Bars ran floor to ceiling, blocking the opening. Heyes and Kid stared. Two dark haired Oriental women and five children of various sizes stared back.

"They're locked in," stated Kid. He gulped. "I sure hope you brought your lock picks."

Heyes hurried to the barred door. The women and children looked frightened and backed up against the far wall speaking quickly in a melodic language. The smallest child started to wail. The younger woman scooped the little one up and placed a hand over the child's mouth. Heyes glimpsed a chamber pot and bedding.

"This ain't a laundry," hissed Heyes. "It's a jail cell!"

Heyes' hands shook with rage as he inserted his lock picks in the keyhole. In a few short seconds, the door swung open. The women and children didn't move. Heyes backed away from the open cell door.

"They probably think we're like the folks that locked them in here," said Kid's soft voice.

"How long do you reckon they've been here?

"Can't be long, there ain't no food," answered Kid. "This is probably just a temporary holding area."

The women and children still hadn't budged.

"Then we gotta get them outta here before whoever locked them inside shows up again," declared Heyes.

In response, his cousin's long legs strode over to the front door and jerked it open. With a sweeping gesture, Kid beckoned the women and children forward. The women and children finally moved when the tall blond stepped away from the door.

"What are we gonna do with them?" asked Heyes.

The mastermind was at a total loss. Heyes slipped his lock picks back into his pocket and strode over to stand by the front window with his partner.

"I don't think that's up to us," answered Kid as he gestured to the group outside.

Three men stood in the street holding heavy staffs. For a moment, Heyes worried that the newly released captives would be rounded up again. Then one of the small children gave a happy squeal of recognition. She ran to a thin man and wrapped her tiny arms around his nearest leg. The little group of women and children separated, joining two of the men in what appeared to be family groups. The third man stepped forward and beckoned for the partners to join him. Kid and Heyes exchanged a glance.

"The alley?"

"You know they've got someone in the back," replied Kid shaking his head. "We'd never make it."

"Then I guess we say hello," smirked Heyes, but his fatalistic tone belied the smile. "See what he wants to talk about."

Heyes led the way as the partners exited the false laundry building.

"Do you work for Mr. Houseman?" asked the Oriental man as they approached.

His flawless English was tinged with a faint British accent. The man's words and short trimmed black hair were at odds with his traditional Chinese attire. A voluminous silken robe covered his chest reaching below the knees of his baggy pants.

"No!" huffed Heyes with barely controlled disdain at the idea.

"Good," replied the man. His short clipped words gave a chill to his next statement. "Mr. Houseman is not a very nice man."

"We've heard," responded Kid in a sour tone.

The man looked from Heyes to Kid, then turned with a pointed glance to the women and children.

"Mr. Houseman charges much money for his transportation services," the man continued in a tight voice. "Extra fees to release his cargo were not part of our agreement."

"We were just leaving…," began Heyes in a conciliatory manner.

"Yeah, we don't want any trouble," added Kid.

"Then you came to the wrong place," interrupted the man, his tone sharp and harsh as he turned back to face the partners. "There is nothing but trouble here!"

The man snapped his fingers. More men, armed with staffs, metal pipes, and modern guns, stepped forward from the shadows of nearby buildings. Without turning away from Kid and Heyes, the leader of the street gang spoke sharp words in the same language that the women had used. The older woman responded. The man's lips turned upwards in a dangerous smile.

"My cousin said you did nothing harmful, merely opened doors," he translated. "Yet it is a strange time of night to be picking up laundry. What were you doing here?"

"We didn't know these people were here," replied Heyes lifting up his chin in defiance.

"As you said, Mr. Houseman takes things that don't belong to him," answered Kid in a firm tone. "We came here to get some papers that belong to a friend of ours."

"We checked the safe in the back room, but it only has money inside," clarified Heyes. "Finding your cousin and the rest of these people was an accident."

The Oriental man's eyebrow went up at Heyes words. His eyes moved downward to Heyes' empty hands and then flicked back up to stare at Heyes.

"And you didn't take the money?"

"We told you, we didn't come here to steal money," snapped Heyes.

"Yet you released my people?" asked the man.

"I got a thing against locking folks up," retorted Heyes.

The safecracker's sharp response brought a smile to the man's lips. The man spoke again. His words sent a nearby man running into the building. The youth returned moments later carrying bundled stacks of money. The gang leader nodded. One by one the armed men faded into the shadows. The two small family groups backed away from the building, leaving their spokesman standing in front of Kid and Heyes.

"It is a happy accident that we meet tonight," replied the man.

"I ain't quite so sure I agree with that," muttered Kid under his breath.

"Sssh!" hissed Heyes in a low undertone.

The man gave no sign he had heard them, but instead leaned his staff against the crook of his elbow as he reached into a deep pocket on the side of his robe. Retrieving a small bottle and a matchstick, the man struck the match. The flame flared, highlighting his cheekbones and almond shaped dark eyes.

"I owe you a favor," continued the man. "If you should ever need help, send someone to Dupont Street and ask for Li Han."

"Han?" repeated Heyes.

"You may go now."

Heyes blinked at being so summarily dismissed. The man held the match to the wick protruding from the top of the bottle. Han tossed the container towards Houseman's building.

"What…"

Heyes started to speak, but he felt Kid grab his arm and tug him down the empty street.

"Just keep walkin' Heyes," urged Kid in a low tone. "Or we'll wind up like the guard."

"What guard?"

"The dead one out in front of the laundry," answered Kid.

"I didn't see…"

"You're lucky, it wasn't pretty," interrupted Kid. "Now keep quiet and keep walking, you know them fellas is still watchin' us."

"Yeah Kid," agreed Heyes. "I know."

The explosion a minute later staggered both men. Heyes looked back over his shoulder. Flames shooting out from the laundry building lit up the street. Han, the two families, and an army of men appeared clearly visible.

"Run!"

As they turned the next corner, an alarm sounded. Before they had gone much further, galloping horses pulling a fire wagon raced past them. The partners didn't slow until they were within sight of Silky's brownstone. Heyes caught his breath as they reached Silky's steps.

"Do you reckon there were any more folks locked up inside any of those building?"

"Lord, I hope not," answered Kid shaking his head. He took a deep breath and added, "I sure am getting tired of San Francisco."

"What do you mean Kid?"

"Heyes," answered Kid, "at least in Wyoming when we gotta make a quick getaway, we've got horses."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Women and children locked up?" spluttered Silky in disbelief.

"Yeah, it seems Freddy is involved in bringing people from China into San Francisco," sighed Heyes. "Only he don't always let them go right away."

Heyes shook his tired head and rubbed his hands against his temples. In the chair beside him, Kid finished rubbing his foot and began to tug his boot back on.

"What do you know about Freddy's transportation services?" asked Heyes.

"I didn't know he had any!" declared Silky.

Heyes took the heavy lever lock key to the laundry door off the ring of keys and laid it on the desk next to the ones for _Be Dazzled, Beer and Sausages,_ and _Fred's Chophouse_. They had been through half of the keys and still hadn't found Silky's deeds. Heyes ticked off the remaining keys on the ring as he spoke.

"The _Roaring Tiger_ , _Unfriendly Finances_ , his home, and one more" murmured Heyes. His hand paused on the last key. "What's the other key for?"

For a moment no one spoke. Kid's heel thumped on the soft carpet as he set his now booted foot back down.

"Are there any places for a ship to dock south of town?" asked Kid.

"Of course," huffed Silky, "must be hundreds between here and Mexico."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The Tuesday morning paper carried an article about the fire. The uninsured business _Filthy Clean Laundry_ was a total loss. The valiant fire department, with two steamers and a Hayes ladder truck, successfully contained the fire without any further damage to surrounding buildings. Heyes turned the page. His eyebrows went up to see Veronique Adler's byline with another brief article about Prince Wilhelm.

"Harry," teased Heyes, "It looks like your girlfriend has her name in print again and this time she got Prince Wilhelm's name right."

The older man had his head cradled atop his folded arms on the other side of the table. Contrary to Miss Adler's predictions on the night of the ball, she didn't get the front page the next morning. The article about the pending visit from King Kalākaua's trade delegation from Hawaiʻi took precedence. Heyes found the annoying woman's byline on the last page as usual. The tiny article about the ball got the details about the Palace right, but the Prince's name was reported as Villem, not Wilhelm. At the sound of Heyes' voice, Harry raised his bleary eyed head.

"She ain't my girlfriend, at least not yet," responded Harry. He blinked, owl-eyed. "What did she write?"

"You know, the usual society gossip," responded Heyes. "Prince Wilhelm has been seen squiring San Francisco's favorite entertainer around town. Where does she get this stuff?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

On the floor below, Charley settled the breakfast tray on the cozy table by the window. She glanced over at the still sleeping form on her bed with a fond smile. The redhead picked up the paper and scanned through it before reaching the same article that Heyes had found.

"Oh no," whispered Charley in dismay. "Mother will hear of this."

She looked over at Kid. He rolled over, sweaty blond curls plastered to his forehead in the unseasonably warm spring morning.

"I hoped we'd have more time together," murmured Charley.

Dropping the paper next to the tray, Charley crossed the room with a few light steps. She leaned in close, trying to memorize every detail of the face in front of her, before she placed a gentle kiss upon his forehead. Kid's blue eyes snapped open.

"Hello handsome," greeted the dancer wish a mischievous wink. "Breakfast is here."

"I ain't hungry," smiled Kid as he reached for her. "Leastways, not for food."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes poured himself a cup of coffee and then reached for the Friday morning paper on the breakfast tray. Heyes unfolded _The Chronicle_ and stared at the headline.

"Kid's not gonna believe this…" he murmured.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"There's been another fire," began Heyes. "Kid, the fire was at _Beer and Sausages_."

His partner's blue eyes widened in recognition. Heyes tapped the headline with his finger.

"A total loss," read Kid, "police suspect arson."

"No tellin' how many folks a man like Freddy has riled," added Heyes, "but I'm betting on it being that fella we met at the laundry."

"Han?"

"We both know he's the reason the laundry burnt down."

"This changes things," nodded Kid in agreement. "We can't wait for the Pierce and Hamilton expo. We need to go to _Unfriendly Finances_ now, tonight!"

"Kid," objected Heyes. His dark hair flew from side to side as he shook his head. "We agreed, not until after I saw the inside…"

"Heyes, it will be nearly three weeks before we can get in to see the expo," reminded Kid. "You cracked the same kinda safe at the Casper Independent Bank and Trust."

"I was lucky," insisted Heyes.

"Skill, not luck," argued Kid. "Come on. You can open this one too."

Heyes wavered, thinking, then Kid added the clincher.

"We need to get inside before there's another fire."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	10. Meetings

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Chapter 10: Meetings

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Why do you want to break into _Frederick Houseman's Friendly Finances_ tonight?" asked Harry in a snide tone.

Heyes and Kid looked up from the newspaper spread across the mahogany table. At the far length of the parlor, the suave blond conman leaned against the door frame to his bedroom, arms folded across his chest, a sneer curled up his lips.

"Good morning Harry," replied Heyes. The dark haired man forced a smile across his face, forced his voice to remain calm and level. "Didn't know you were up already."

"Didn't know you were listening to us talk neither," grumbled Kid. His blue eyes flashed in irritation. His left hand reached over and rubbed the knuckles of his right hand. "There you go, sneakin' around again. I told you Wednesday night, that kinda behavior is hazardous for your health!"

"Ooh," mocked Harry with a pretend pout. "Where are my manners?"

The twenty-one year old started to rise, but Heyes' hand shot out and grasped his partner's forearm. Harry sauntered over to the partners. The old man leaned over the table, lowering his face to meet Kid's.

"I heard you say _we need to go to Unfriendly Finances now, tonight_!" hissed Harry. "Why? Why are you so determined to mess up all our hard work on this con?"

"I ain't messin' up anything. This con of yours is taking too long," retorted Kid.

Kid's index finger jabbed at the headline.

"Did you see this?" demanded Kid. "There might not be anything left to retrieve for Silky if we don't hurry. One of Freddy's restaurant burned to the ground last night!"

Harry didn't even look at the newspaper. The forty year old pushed back from the table and stood up straight.

"Hah! Just because there's a fire at the sausage shop you're worried?" sneered Harry. "A murder every night, a fire every day. That sounds like business as usual in this town."

Heyes blinked in disbelief at the man's callousness, but Harry wasn't done talking. The angry man turned to Heyes.

"Do you even know where he's been going every night?" demanded Harry. "He dresses up in his regular clothes at night to go out to that saloon and walk his lady friend back to the Palace."

"Of course I know where he goes," replied Heyes with a smirk. "And Kid only walks her back from the saloon when she's there until closing."

Harry's jaw dropped open.

"You knew about that?" asked Harry.

"Kid told us about her the night of the ball," reminded Heyes. He bestowed a beatific smile upon Harry. "I thought you were interested in Miss Adler. Don't tell me you're jealous."

"I ain't jealous, I'm worried!" snapped Harry. "Your partner's not staying with the plan! Our con depends upon him portraying Prince Wilhelm!"

"I've been doing everything you asked me to as Prince Wilhelm," warned Kid in a low tone.

The young shootist's quiet words sounded far more dangerous than Harry's rant. Kid arched his shoulders back and rose to stand, hands held loosely at his side, almost as if he were readying himself for a fast draw. Kid's blue eyes narrowed.

"I've been shopping for all those fancy clothes you said Prince Wilhelm needed even though I don't like shopping," Kid reported. He fired additional reminders. "I've been to the chocolatiers, the theater, the San Francisco Art Association, three California Historical Society meetings, and to more tea parties than I could ever imagine!"

The normally quiet, soft spoken young man sucked in a deep breath. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Kid spoke first.

"I stood up for hours shaking hands with people I'd never met before and haven't seen since!" shot out Kid. "The only thing Prince Wilhelm hasn't done is dance at that stupid ball!"

Heyes tried to swallow a smirk. His partner's patience with this elaborate con had definitely worn thin. Harry threw his hands up in the air.

"Can't you control your partner?" protested Harry in exasperation. "I'm getting tired of having to follow him around and make sure he gets back to the Palace safely!"

"What?" exploded Kid. "Is that why you've been following me around? Because you think _you_ need to protect _me_?"

Harry spun around to face Kid once more and glared at the younger man.

"You don't know San Francisco!" hissed Harry. "Here, nobody knows you and nobody cares if Kid Curry is a bad man from Wyoming."

Heyes bolted upright. His arms spread wide to either side, keeping Kid and Harry apart.

"Harry, I appreciate your watching over my partner," smiled Heyes. "But you really don't have to…"

"Yes I do! We can't pull off this con without our Prince!" interrupted Harry.

Heyes struggled to keep his own temper in check. Abruptly the conman stepped back.

"The plan is finally coming together, our Prince has been invited to the _Roaring Tiger_ Friday after next," snapped Harry. "So keep him in line! Stay away from Houseman's loan office."

Harry spun on his heels and stalked back to his room. Kid's blue eyed glare followed the man. It wasn't until Harry's bedroom door shut that the partners rocked back on their heels. Tension drained from their stance. Blue eyes met brown. Heyes quirked an eyebrow up and gave a pointed look at Kid's right hand.

"I was wondering how you got that bruise," prodded Heyes. "What did you do, punch Harry for following you?"

Kid glanced down at the bruised knuckles on his right hand.

"Nah," replied Kid shaking his head. "Harry was concentrating on following me. He never noticed the fella following him."

"What do you mean?" asked Heyes.

"Heyes, Harry is right about one thing. San Francisco is a dangerous city," replied Kid with a soft chuckle. "I had to convince the fella that Harry's pockets weren't worth picking."

"And Harry doesn't know?"

"No, he was up the street trying to figure out where I had gone," answered Kid shaking his head. "After I dealt with the fella, I got back in front of Harry and let him find me again."

"At least now we know why Harry's been following you," smirked Heyes. "And Prince Wilhelm has finally got an invitation to Freddy's private club."

"Do you think I ought to tell Harry just how many times I've saved his neck over these past weeks?"

"No Kid," replied Heyes with a dimpled smile, "it might be to our benefit if Harry keeps on underestimating you."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes tilted his black pointed hat up as the sound of footsteps faded. He glanced to the right. The laughing couple continued on, arm in arm, totally oblivious to the slender man they had just passed. As the couple disappeared around the corner, Heyes pushed off the wall. He couldn't lean against the building any longer. The unseasonably warm weather made bricks and masonry hot to the touch even an hour after sundown. He untied his black bandana from his throat and wiped perspiration from his forehead. The sound of boot steps on paving stones alerted Heyes to another arrival. The safe cracker turned to see his partner approaching.

"About time you got here," muttered Heyes.

Heyes squinted as Kid neared. There was something different about Kid's attire. The sturdy blond wore his familiar dark red shirt and brown vest over a pair of heavy blue pants adorned with tiny metal rivets.

"What took you so long?" greeted Heyes

"Heyes, I don't like splitting up, but we agreed to stick with Harry's plan on the surface," reminded Kid in a level tone. "I keep playing at being a prince and running up debts until we get all of Silky's deeds, stocks, bonds and whatever else he's missing."

"I thought Harry was taking you and George shopping," grumbled Heyes. "You should have been back at the Palace hours ago."

Kid stopped in front of Heyes. The twenty-one year old rolled his eyes.

"You ain't been shopping with George lately," huffed Kid. "She had a list. I think we went to every store on her list at least once, mighta gone to some of them places twice."

"More shopping!" grumbled Heyes. "Is that where you got the fancy pants?"

"Fella named Strauss has a place on Sacramento Street," nodded Kid. "Don't worry, I got you a pair too."

"Why would I want pants with rivets on them?" asked Heyes.

"Fella says the rivets make the pants hold up better," answered Kid. "He and his partner have a patent on the process, but I bought them because I think they're comfortable."

The slender man regarded his partner. The last item of apparel that Kid had bought and called comfortable were the boots he got in Denver.

"Comfortable, huh?" questioned Heyes. "Even with them rivets poking out all over?"

"Yeah Heyes, the pants are comfortable. Now are we gonna stand out here all night talking?" asked Kid. "Or go inside?"

The tactician shook his head. Heyes made an elaborate sweep of his arm and gestured towards the front door.

"Shall we?" asked Heyes.

"Shouldn't we try the back?" objected Kid.

Kid pointed towards the narrow space between the buildings. They would have to walk single file. The opening was hardly wide enough for one man to go through. Heyes shook his head.

"No Kid, the key fits the front door. I already opened it," replied Heyes. At Kid's glare, he added, "What? I got bored waiting for you!"

Once inside the finance building, Kid pulled the door shut behind them. Light filtered through the tops of the shuttered front windows. There were two front rooms on either side of a narrow corridor.

"No safes here," murmured Heyes.

The strategist stepped further down the corridor into the darkness. Kid struck a match on the frame of the second set of doors. Blocked by the adjacent buildings on either side, the window had barely any light shining into the rooms.

"No safes here either," stated Kid.

Heyes moved toward the rearmost set of rooms, while Kid took a moment to light the candle and insert the shade into the holder. The flickering flame lit up the room on the right.

"Nothing but a desk and more file cabinets," grumbled Heyes.

The dark haired outlaw turned to face the last doorway. Unlike the others, this one actually had a door. Heyes placed his hand on the knob, it twisted beneath his touch, Heyes pushed the door open.

"Ewww!"

The scuttling noise of multitudes of brown and black bugs slithering into cracks and crevices nearly drowned out the partner's hiss of disgust. The remains of someone's leftover meal sprawled over the edges of a waste bin. Just past the bin a shiny new Pierce and Hamilton safe loomed over the room.

"Figures," groused Heyes. "Someone forgot to take out the trash."

Kid moved the dripping waste bin as Heyes knelt in front of the black and gilt trimmed safe. The safe cracker leaned in close and placed the side of his face against the cool metal. He closed his eyes and started to turn the dials, listening. Kid stomped his boot. Heyes jerked back, brown eyes widening at the sudden sound.

"Would you quit that?" hissed Heyes.

"Did you want any of them bugs to come crawling up your leg?"

Heyes didn't say anything for nearly a full minute.

"Stomp quietly Kid," replied Heyes finally.

Heyes closed his eyes once more, listened and spun the dial. Click. Turn the other way. Click. Spin. Click. A deep breath. He pulled the handle down and opened the door. The safe was crammed full of papers.

"Do you see Silky's deeds?" asked Kid from the doorway.

"I don't know Kid," shrugged Heyes. He reached in and pulled out a wad of papers. "Bills of lading, IOU's, money, there must be hundreds of papers in here."

"We don't got time for that Heyes," cautioned Kid. "We've been here too long already. Feel for the heavy papers, grab them and let's go."

Heyes closed his eyes again. Nimble fingers reached into the mass of papers. Rustling. Fingers grasped a precious few documents on heavy paper. Heyes tucked them inside his vest. Leaving the safe door open, Heyes moved to join his partner as Kid stepped out into the corridor. The cautious man of action blew out the candle and pushed the rear door.

"Kid," Heyes shook his head, "you don't wanna…"

The door opened to reveal a narrow passageway cluttered with debris and four outhouses lined up in a row. Kid sniffed. He turned to look at Heyes.

"It wasn't like this when we cased it before," stated Kid.

"Heat wave makes it smell worse," replied Heyes.

"No matter what it smells like," urged Kid, "we've got to…"

Kid's words were cut off by the sound of the front door opening. The partners turned to see a man dressed in a black suit, with a bowler hat upon his head, and a large staff in his right hand. The clipped British accent was immediately identifiable.

"You two again," stated Han Li in recognition. The Oriental man tilted his head to one side. "You must like trouble."

"Actually, that would be my partner," smiled Heyes. The loquacious man spread his hands wide in the dim light to show that they were empty and rambled on. "He can't seem to stay away from trouble. Me, I like…"

"We were just leaving," interrupted Kid.

Heyes inhaled sharply, sure that the leader of the street gang would object. Instead, the man stepped to one side.

"Indeed," agreed Han, "I think that is a very good idea."

The Oriental man beckoned for them to come down the corridor. As Heyes approached, he spoke again.

"It seems we have a mutual concern with Mr. Houseman. Did you find your papers this time?" asked Han.

"No," replied Heyes, hoping that the man wouldn't search him or Kid. "But if you're interested, we left the safe open."

A chilling smile spread across the man's face. He turned and spoke two sharp words to the seemingly empty street outside. A man dressed in black appeared from the shadows.

"Although it is a happy accident that we meet again, you should go now," urged Han.

Heyes and Kid hurried out the door. They passed the man Han had called as he entered. In the shadowed street, more men dressed in black appeared but made no signs of aggression. No one stopped the partners as they strode quickly towards Second Street. They were three streets away when they heard a rumbling boom.

"That sounds like Kyle setting off a charge of dynamite," huffed Kid. "Do you reckon Han blew up Freddy's building?"

"Kinda hard to burn brick and mortar Kid," reminded Heyes, "of course the paneling and all those files…"

The first fire alarm rang out within minutes. A fire wagon passed them two blocks later. Two streets further another fire wagon and the Hayes truck passed them as well.

"We've got to stop meeting that fella," hissed Kid as they turned the corner.

"You're right, I don't want any more happy accidents," agreed Heyes.

"It's the unhappy accidents I'm worried about!" declared Kid.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The front door to Silky's brownstone opened a crack. A pair of eyes peered through. Silky's wispy white hair appeared mussed.

"Silky," greeted Heyes.

The older conman held a finger to his lips and shook his head.

"Sssh!"

Heyes tensed. Beside him, Kid leaned in, placing his hand against the door, pressing it further open.

"Silky, are you alright? Is something wrong?"

The septuagenarian shook his head from left to right, but from behind him a female voice spoke.

"Papa O'Sullivan."

The front door swung wide open as Kid leaned in further. A dark haired woman of about forty, wearing a black mourning dress, stood by the staircase. A large trunk on the floor beside her blocked Heyes' view of the small half-moon table normally visible in the entryway. Standing on the first step, a little girl with chestnut ringlets peered around the woman's waist. On the woman's other side, an older girl with straight brown hair parted in the middle craned her neck to peer over the woman's shoulder.

"Do we have visitors at this hour?"

Without turning to face the woman, Silky crinkled up his face and frowned at Heyes and Kid.

"Eleanor, these gentlemen are business acquaintances of mine," answered Silky.

"Business acquaintances? At this hour?" asked Eleanor.

Her face looked puzzled. Heyes glanced to Silky. The spry older man made shooing motions with his hands. Heyes didn't know what Silky had told Eleanor, if anything, about their work with the con artist, so he replied in a formal manner.

"My apologies, Mr. O'Sullivan. We didn't know you had visitors," nodded Heyes. He held the heavy papers along with the front door key to the former financial building towards Silky. "We thought you might wish to see these tonight."

Silky took the proffered documents without even looking at them and tucked the key into his small vest pocket. Heyes felt Kid grasp his arm and tug him back from the doorway.

"We were just leaving," added Kid. The curly blond head bobbed in a gesture of respect first to the adult woman and then to the two girls. "Goodnight Ma'am, goodnight girls."

"Goodnight gentlemen," replied Eleanor.

The woman turned back to the girls. Heyes heard her speak as he backed up another step. " _Felicity, Stephanie, upstairs now, to bed."_ Silky stepped outside on the stairway landing with Heyes and Kid. One of the children protested, _"But Grampa said he would read us a story."_ The conman pulled the door shut behind him.

"Billy's family?" asked Heyes in a soft voice.

"Yeah," answered Silky. His chin quivered, then he spoke again. "Boys, I want you to know how much I appreciate what you're doin'. Finding the deeds ain't just for me."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes opened the door to the seventh floor suite to find George curled up on the fainting sofa, book in hand. She wore a blue robe over a white ruffled night gown. George looked up at his entrance and smiled. Heyes nodded in the direction of Harry's door with a questioning look.

"Harry went to bed early," replied George to his unspoken question. "Horace left soon after, he's got to help with set designs tomorrow for the next play."

"And you waited up?" responded Heyes with a smirk. "I'm touched."

"Hmmph," sniffed George. "I was reading, not waiting up."

"What book?" asked Heyes.

"Something called Jane Eyre," replied George. "Charley lent it to me last Tuesday when Kid and I met her at the chocolate shop."

"Charley?" Heyes voice ratcheted up in surprise. "What? Kid introduced you to that woman?"

"Seriously?" scoffed George. "What is your problem? Just because she's a dancer you don't have to call her _that woman_."

"My problem? My problem has nothing to do with her being a dancer. I'm more worried about the fact that Charley thinks you're a princess and Kid is your bodyguard," huffed Heyes. "Or have you forgotten that little fact?"

"No I haven't forgotten that!" huffed George. She rose to stand. Dark curls cascaded over her shoulders. "We sat and drank a chocolate soda together. Charley got to meet a princess and I got to meet a woman that makes an honest living as a professional entertainer."

"Hmmph!" spluttered Heyes. "Just what exactly did you two talk about?"

"Nothing for you to worry about!" huffed George. She turned towards her bedroom door. "We talked about politics and fashion, books and music, normal conversation. You ought to try it sometime!"

"I talk to people!" protested Heyes. "I talk all the time."

George looked over her shoulder and rolled her eyes.

"You might try listening some time too!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The Saturday morning paper carried the expected article about the explosion and fire at _Frederick Houseman's Friendly Finances_. The building was a total loss. Heyes reached to turn the page as he took a sip of coffee. Heyes nearly choked when he saw the next headline.

"What?" spluttered Heyes.

The headline on page two reported that _Kid Curry, Hannibal Heyes and the Devil's Hole Gang Rob First National Bank of Medicine Bow._ The article continued with a quote from a representative of Wells Fargo.

"Fifty thousand!" breathed Heyes. "I wish we had fifty thousand!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Come on Jed," urged Charley with a warm glow in her dark eyes.

Charley tugged Kid forward. The tall blond man stepped out of the freight elevator to join the pretty dancer on the plush carpet of the sixth floor. Charley trailed her hand across the balcony railing, talking nonstop as they walked towards her suite. The watchful man abruptly stepped in front of her.

"Wait," hissed Kid in a low tone.

"What's wrong?" asked the redhead.

"Your door is open," answered Kid.

The tiny woman tried to peer around Kid's much larger form, however he kept sidestepping, keeping his body between her and the door.

"Did you ask room service to send up something this late?" asked Kid.

"No," answered Charley.

His strong hand reached out and gently pushed the door open further. Several large steamer trunks were visible in the parlor. One trunk was open, revealing flouncy, lace trimmed dresses. A tall, thin woman with graying hair dressed all in in black held a light blue dress in her hands. The intruder's narrow lips were pursed in a frown. Kid stopped in surprise. Charley finally got her head around him to see inside the room

"Mother!" exclaimed Charley in surprise.

The woman looked up. If anything, the pinched expression on her face tightened. She draped the dress in her hands across the trunk.

"Charlotte," greeted the older woman. Her thin lips spread across her face in a tight smile. "Don't stand out in the corridor gawking. Come inside."

Red curls bounced on Charley's shoulders as she stepped past the watchful man in the doorway. Kid stayed in the corridor. Charley stood just inside the parlor, posture stiff, with her hands on hips. Her chin jutted out a bit when she spoke again.

"What are you doing here already Mother?"

Kid blinked at the word _already_ , but otherwise remained motionless outside the door. He couldn't remember Charley mentioning her mother was coming.

"Where else would I be?" asked the woman. "When I'm in San Francisco, we always stay at the Palace."

The woman's dark eyes flitted past Charley to Kid for a brief moment. He felt the older woman's calculating gaze rake over him before her eyes returned to settle upon her daughter.

"Together," emphasized Charley's mother. "Besides, I thought I'd bring you the good news myself. Telegrams are so impersonal."

"Good news?" asked Charley. Kid watched her swallow hard before she spoke again. "What good news?"

"Your agent has secured a new contract," gloated the woman in black. "You sign on Monday. Five thousand per week!"

Kid sucked in a deep breath. He'd seen men throwing gold coins at Charley during her performances, and knew she made a lot of money, but he'd never really thought about how much money before. Kid glanced at Charley.

"When?" asked Charley. "Where?"

"A six month tour, Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, maybe even Washington," answered the woman excitedly. "The show is made to showcase your talents! You'll dance, sing and act! It's everything we've worked for!"

"We're leaving California?"

Charley's mother continued as if her daughter hadn't spoken. She made a shooing motion towards Kid.

"Now Charlotte, give the man his tip and send him on his way," ordered Charley's mother.

Kid stiffened at the woman's abrupt dismissal. He shook his curly blond head and started to speak, but Charley spoke first.

"He has a name Mother," declared Charley. "Jed's been seeing me home safely for quite some time now."

The older woman placed her hands to the side of her face in a semblance of dismay. Her eyes were dark like Charley's, but they gleamed hard and cold.

"Oh Charlotte," admonished Charley's mother. "What have I told you about forming attachments?"

"Attachment?" blurted out Kid.

The gentle blue eyed man wondered what word he would use to describe his relationship with Charley. The first night they met, there had been an attraction. Perhaps it should have ended there. They both had other commitments and neither would be staying in San Francisco long, but a chance encounter had developed over the past few weeks into something more. He didn't want to call what they had an affair, but wasn't sure if love was the right word either.

"Mother's words, not mine," Charley hastened to clarify. "Moving from show to show is the life of a dancer. I'm not supposed to get involved with men…"

"Men, hmmph," interrupted Charley's mother in a waspish tone. "They break your heart and steal your money."

"You don't know anything about me! I don't want Charley's money!" exclaimed Kid. He backed away from the door with his hands raised to either side of his chest. "Never did!"

"Pshaw! Go on," shooed the disagreeable woman. "You're no different than the rest!"

"Mother! That's enough," exclaimed Charley. "Jed, wait!"

Kid backed into the balcony railing. The graceful redhead slipped through the doorway into the corridor pulling the door shut behind her. The tiny woman hurried over to Kid and placed both hands on his chest, looking up at him with tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that," whispered Charley. "I know you aren't after my money."

Kid lowered his arms to stroke her trembling form. Charley leaned her head against his muscular chest. Kid wondered what kind of woman would tell her daughter that a man only wanted her money, not her. The curly haired man found his voice.

"Why would she say that? Your mother is wrong, most men would be looking to win your heart," said Kid softly. His lips curled up in a smirk to hide the hurt her mother's words had caused, "The money would just be extra."

His jest brought a small smile to Charley's lips. She gave a small shrug and tried to explain.

"Mother doesn't trust men."

"All men?"

"My father mostly," admitted Charley. "He abandoned us when I was a little girl, ran off to dig for gold."

"Your father is a miner? I thought you said he was a thief?" asked Kid.

Charley looked up at Kid. A frustrated exhalation ruffled the red tendrils above her forehead.

"In the eyes of the law, everything he did was legal," replied Charley with a rueful smile. "But as far as I'm concerned, he's a thief."

"What do you mean?"

"We didn't hear from Father again until I was twelve, when I started making money dancing," answered Charley. "Father showed up demanding money. He wanted his share. More than his share actually. Since he is my father, it was legal for him to take all the money I earned. According to the law, he's in control."

"Laws are peculiar," whispered Kid.

For a moment, Charley didn't say anything more. Then she shrugged as if it didn't matter, but Kid could feel the tightness in her shoulder muscles.

"Father went on a drinking binge that night. He fell asleep with his arms hugging two bags of gold," continued Charley. "All the money I earned from six months' worth of blistered heels."

"Most men would hold on to their wife and child first," said Kid. Then in a wry tone he added, "Of course they might stuff the money under the bed for safe keeping."

A chuckle burbled up from the tiny woman. She shook her head.

"Not Father. Mother and I packed up and left town that night," added Charley. "Father was the first man Mother ever paid to stay away."

The strong man brought his hand up and traced the curve of her face, wiping away the moisture from beneath her dark eyes with his thumb. Charley's eyelashes fluttered, but tears still glistened in her eyes.

"Things are better now that I'm over twenty-five, but the law still favors husbands and fathers over wives and daughters," whispered Charley. "Mother worries more about contracts and fortune hunters now than Father."

Charley leaned in closer to Kid, pressing against his body. Her face lit up with a hopeful smile.

"Come with me Jed," urged Charley.

"What?"

"Come to Boston."

Kid glanced at the door to her suite. He had a pretty good idea what her mother would say to that idea. As if she was reading his mind, Charley reached up and placed her hand against the side of his face, drawing his gaze back to her.

"We could have more time together," coaxed Charley. "You could be anyone in Boston. We could both have a fresh start, really get to know one another."

The tall man took a deep breath. Kid pulled back. There was something he had to do first.

"Charley, you're the best thing about San Francisco, but I can't leave my partner," replied Kid. "We have a job to finish. Would you want to stay here a while longer?"

Charley shook her head, red curls tumbling over her shoulders. She pursed her lips in disappointment.

"No, I can't let Mother down now. I'm all she's got," sighed Charley. "I have to go to Boston to start this new job. It's a dream come true, everything Mother and I have worked for all these years."

Soft fingers caressed the side of Kid's face, drawing him closer to a tiny heart shaped face and rosy lips.

"Jedidiah Curry, I will always…," whispered Charley.

"What? What did you call me?" interrupted Kid, pulling back in surprise.

Charley's smile broadened. A mischievous gleam lit up her eyes.

"Do you know how often you've talked about Wyoming over the past six weeks?" asked Charley. "I heard you call your partner Heyes once when you were getting out of the freight elevator and he called you Kid. I can put the pieces together. I'm so glad you decided to go straight."

Kid's mouth dropped open in a wordless protest.

"Jed, don't worry. Your secret will always be safe with me," breathed Charley in a soft voice. She ran her fingers through his curls and pulled his face down to meet hers. "Now kiss me goodbye."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Kid?"

Heyes looked up from the solitaire game spread out across the table before him as his partner opened the door. The seventh floor suite was quiet. Horace had left earlier to return to the theater for his evening performance. George had gone to bed, and Harry hadn't been seen since supper.

"Heyes," acknowledged the blond shootist as he stepped inside the room.

"What are you doin' here?" asked Heyes.

Kid's eyebrows went up. He glanced around the parlor, eyes lingering on the bedroom door closest to the fainting sofa.

"You didn't rent out my room," asked Kid, "did you?"

A dimpled smile spread across Heyes' face.

"No," chuckled Heyes. "Of course not."

The dark haired man didn't ask, but Kid answered the unspoken question.

"Charley's mother arrived," Kid explained. "They'll be leaving San Francisco for Boston soon."

His partner's blue eyes looked away, and Heyes suddenly found himself worried that Kid might have fallen for the pretty dancer harder than he would admit.

"Quite frankly I'm surprised at you seeing a redhead," prodded Heyes. "I woulda thought that Charley might remind you of one of your sisters."

Kid snorted.

"Charley ain't nothin' like my sisters," asserted Kid. Then his lips turned up in a smile. "But George has always reminded me of Maeve."

For a moment, Heyes could picture Kid's oldest sister, laughing as she ordered her cousin and little brother inside for dinner. _"And you will wash your hands first!"_

"Bossy!" grinned Heyes. Then as Kid moved towards his bedroom door, Heyes prodded once more. "What about Clem? Does she remind you of Bridget?"

"No," replied Kid. "Clem is more like you."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

A/N2 – fictional character Charley was loosely based on the career of real person Lotta Crabtree, talented dancer, singer, and actress who left California for Boston, and used some of her earnings to support charities such as the Massachusetts Society for Aiding Discharged Prisoners.


	11. Crash!

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Chapter 11: Crash!

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It was well past midnight when the door to the seventh floor suite opened again. Heyes looked up from his solitaire game to see Harry leaning against the doorway for support. The normally debonair man was disheveled, hair mussed and eyes wild.

"I lost him!" declared Harry.

"No worry, Kid is already here," soothed Heyes. "He's gone to sleep."

Harry staggered into the room. He didn't seem to hear Heyes.

"Billy was supposed to meet me by the harbormaster's office," mumbled Harry, "but, but he didn't show up."

The slurred voice and stumbling path Harry took to cross the room let Heyes know the man was drunk well before Harry placed his hands on the edge of the table and spoke again.

"Billy's dead," informed Harry. "Freddy…" hiccup… "Freddy Houseman is responsible. I know it."

Heyes rose to stand. He took Harry by the arm. Gently he guided the inebriated man towards his room. Harry clung to Heyes vest, his head wobbled as he spoke.

"I prom… promised Billy," confided Harry, whispering into Heyes' nearest ear, "to do whatever it takes to get Freddy."

"We'll get Freddy," promised Heyes. "We're working on a plan…"

The strategist pushed open the conman's bedroom door. Harry stumbled as they entered the room.

"I tried to shoot Freddy."

Heyes nearly fell, the words jarring him even more than the plastered man who rocked against him.

"You did what?"

"Had a rifle, had Freddy lined up in my sights," confessed Harry. "I tried to remember everything they taught us in army training before Bull Run, but I couldn't do it."

"You fought in the Civil War?" asked Heyes in surprise.

"Trained for it," corrected Harry with another hiccup. "Got captured at Bull Run and spent the next four years in prison camps."

The two men reached the bed. Harry sat on the side of the mattress and gave a huge sigh.

"I couldn't shoot the man that had my partner murdered," admitted Harry as if it was a grievous character failing. "It ain't that I really want Freddy dead, I just want Billy alive."

The fair haired conman fell back on the bed with a groan. Heyes lifted the man's legs up on the bed. Harry rolled over with a soft muffled noise. Snores let Heyes know that Harry had passed out. He shook his dark head.

"Harry," murmured Heyes as he tugged off the older man's short ankle high boots, "that might be the first thing you said that I actually like about you."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Charley's mother said what?" demanded George, her voice rising with every word.

Heyes raked his fingers through his hair as he stepped into the parlor. He didn't often sleep late, but after tucking Harry in, he'd found his own bed. Secure, knowing that Kid was in the next room, made it easy to fall asleep. He blinked his eyes. Kid slouched in the straight back chair, the Sunday paper unopened on the mahogany table before him. A breakfast tray off to one side contained a half-eaten biscuit, congealed eggs and cold bacon.

"What she said don't matter," murmured Kid. "She don't know me and apparently neither does Charley."

Heyes narrowed his eyes. Hands on hips, chest heaving as she huffed in irritation, Heyes could tell George was upset. And from what his partner said, it sounded as if Kid had told George something more than Charley and her mother were leaving for Boston.

"What's wrong?" asked Heyes in a mild tone.

The pretty brunette turned to face Heyes. George took a deep breath, pasted a smile upon her face and fluttered her eyelashes, instantly putting Heyes on guard.

"Finally, you're up! I'm going to the Sunday buffet for breakfast," declared George. "Kid doesn't want to go and Harry's still in his room. Would you like to come with me?"

Heyes glanced towards his partner. The headline's large type _"San Francisco's Favorite Entertainer Boston Bound!"_ was legible from where he stood.

"Kid, are you feeling alright?" asked the older Kansan.

"I've been up for a while, I already ate," answered Kid.

Any objections Heyes might have made were forestalled by George's next words.

"And if you want to come with me to breakfast, change into something a little neater than that Henley," ordered George.

Heyes rolled his eyes. Whatever was going on, he'd have a better chance of ferreting out the information from George than from Kid. And he was hungry. Might as well start the day with breakfast and twenty questions.

"Yes Princess George."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Charley's mother thinks Kid is a fortune hunter," explained George. "And Charley knows who you both are. She thinks you and Kid are trying to go straight."

"What?" hissed Heyes. "She can't know who we are!"

George cracked the hardboiled eggshell. The stiff high collared shirt of his fine Denver suit rustled as Heyes turned his head. In recent years, the Devil's Hole Gang specialized in nighttime bank jobs in order to remain unrecognized. Daylight jobs, the bank in Lowell last year, and occasional train robbery were rarities. The dark haired outlaw cast a baleful glare at the table where Charley and an older woman sat. Heyes leaned in closer to George.

"Our descriptions are vague at best, there aren't any photographs of us, and we're hardly known outside of Wyoming," protested Heyes.

"You and Kid were being tracked by bounty hunters through Colorado last December," snorted George. "And don't forget the dime novels, they describe you."

"Does anybody really read those things?"

"No one claims to," chuckled George, "but for a book no one claims to have read, _Hannibal Heyes, Kid Curry and The Devil's Hole Gang Take A Riverboat!_ is selling like hotcakes."

Heyes sat back in his chair with a sulky frown on his face. He had convinced Kid that their anonymity was an advantage for them to work in San Francisco. Only Silky and George knew them. Then Harry was let in on their identity. And Horace found them. And now Charley knew their real names too.

"How did Charley find out who we are?"

"I don't know," admitted George. "Kid didn't say."

George took a bite of her egg and swallowed before speaking again.

"You know, it wouldn't be a bad idea if Timothy O'Malley and Orville Weston settled down in San Francisco."

Heyes narrowed his eyes. He'd been thinking something along the same lines for quite some time now. There were a few details to work out though. How to earn a living in this city, honest jobs were scarce and dishonest jobs were dangerous. And how Prince Wilhelm could disappear leaving his partner free to remain. Heyes was still figuring on those problems, but he wasn't going to let George know.

"Kid doesn't like the name Orville," dissembled Heyes.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"They're leaving," hissed George a few minutes later.

Petticoats rustled as George stood up. She placed her napkin beside her plate. Heyes looked up in surprise at her abrupt movement.

"What?" asked Heyes. "Are you going to follow them?"

"Of course I am, I want a word with that woman. Come on!" exhorted George.

"Which one?"

George didn't answer. Heyes hurried to catch up with her. The pair entered the front lobby just a few short steps behind Charley and her mother. As the two women neared the main guest elevator, the operator looked up and greeted them. The doors to the redwood lined rising room opened with a quiet whooshing noise. Charley's mother stepped inside and George took action.

"Excuse me," insisted George in a loud voice. "I must get to my room now."

The pretty brunette brashly pushed past Charley, inadvertently knocking the tiny redhead off balance. Heyes and the elevator operator collided in their rush to aid the dancer as George stepped inside the elevator. The con woman pushed a button. The elevator operator dropped his support of Charley and moved to stop George, leaving Heyes to catch Charley. The doors closed before the operator reached his controls. The man made a huff of protest and furiously started poking buttons. Heyes helped Charley upright and released his grasp upon her arms. The indicator showed George and Charley's mother moving upwards, then the indicator stopped. For a moment, no one said anything.

"What happened?" asked Heyes. "Why isn't the indicator moving?"

The hotel employee turned to Charley and Heyes with a fatuous smile.

"My apologies, the elevator appears to be stuck," the man said. "There may be a brief wait. Or if you're in a hurry, you may use the freight elevator or the stairs."

Heyes turned to look at the tiny redhead. Her dark eyes were fixed on the number indicator. Heyes extended his arm to the dancer.

"Miss Charlotte," offered Heyes in a polite, refined tone, "I know where the freight elevator is located and would be glad to escort you."

Charley shook her head and finally turned to face Heyes. A look of recognition flitted across her face then disappeared. She placed one hand upon his arm and smiled.

"Thank you Mr. O'Malley," responded the woman, "but please, do call me Charley. Only my mother calls me Charlotte."

Heyes and Charley made their way back across the lobby. It wasn't until they stepped inside the pine paneled freight elevator that Charley spoke again.

"Why did George commandeer the elevator?"

The hydraulic machinery lurched upwards. Heyes leaned back against the wall facing Charley. White cuffs of his starched dress shirt peaked out from beneath the black sleeves of his suitcoat. The astute man crossed his arms over his chest. Charley's familiar usage of Georgette's nickname told Heyes that not only did Charley know who he and his partner were, the dancer also knew George wasn't a princess.

"I believe George wanted a word with your mother," answered Heyes with a wry smile.

Charley's dark eyes winced.

"Ooh, I feel sorry for George."

"Actually, I feel sorry for your mother," smirked Heyes. "George has an idea that your mother was rude to my partner."

Charley turned to look directly at Heyes as the slow moving elevator clanked its way upwards.

"Mother was trying to protect me," replied Charley. "Sometimes she can be a little… harsh."

"You don't need protecting from my partner," retorted Heyes. "He would never hurt you."

Charley shrugged her shoulders and gave a rueful smile. The elevator clanked as the indicator moved to point to the number three.

"I know that, otherwise I wouldn't have asked him to go to Boston with me," responded Charley, "but Mother doesn't."

Heyes sucked in a deep breath. Charley's soft words unsettled Heyes more than the swaying elevator. The indicator hand moved past four as the elevator continued its ponderous rise upwards.

"Jed didn't tell you that," realized Charley.

Dark brown hair flew from side to side as Heyes shook his head.

"The only thing my partner told me was that you were going to Boston," admitted Heyes. "Of course I could have got that from the paper this morning. Miss Adler finally got a headline with the story of your triumph."

Charley gave a small sigh and shook her head.

"Mother is determined that we go back East," replied the petite redhead. "She tipped off Veronique hoping the publicity would pressure me to sign the contract."

Heyes blinked in surprise at the dancer's candid assessment of her mother's manipulative behavior. The elevator clanked past the fifth floor.

"Do you know Miss Adler personally?" prodded Heyes.

"Yes," smiled Charley. "We went to the same school. Veronique's mother taught French lessons, and her father taught German. You should know Mr. Adler, he is a member of the Schuetzen Verein."

"The what?"

"Someone in the San Francisco security business ought to know about the Schuetzen Verein," teased Charley. "Mr. Adler is a part of a citizen's group, founded to protect the people of San Francisco from lawbreakers."

With a mischievous smirk, Charley added, "Or former lawbreakers."

"You mean Mr. Adler is a vigilante," stated Heyes. He let the comment about former lawbreakers ride. Now was not the time to straighten out Charley's misconceptions.

"No, Mr. Adler and his friends are more of a social club. Think of his group as the night watch," objected Charley. "There are other groups in the city that deserve to be called vigilantes, or worse."

The elevator door swished open on the sixth floor to reveal George and Charley's mother standing in front of the door to her suite. Hands gesticulating and mouths moving rapidly indicated an ongoing argument.

"I see the other elevator is no longer stuck," observed Heyes.

"Good, I'm glad they're not in closed quarters," chuckled Charley. Then she echoed what Heyes had been thinking. "The freight elevator is the one I always worry about getting stuck."

"Do you want to try and separate them?" asked Heyes with a smirk. "Or go upstairs and wait them out?"

Charley shook her head and stepped lightly out onto the hallway carpet.

"No, I can't see Jed again," replied Charley. "If he asked me to stay again, I just might."

Heyes forced a smile across his face and attempted to conceal the surprise he felt at this second revelation. Thankfully Charley was intent on George and her mother.

"You get your mother," suggested Heyes. "I'll get George."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes held the door to the seventh floor suite open. George flounced in, still steaming. Kid looked up from the newspaper he was reading.

"The nerve of that woman," huffed George. The angry brunette stomped across the parlor floor, pulled open her bedroom door, and announced, "I'm going to lie down. Try to be quiet! I've got a headache from trying to talk sense to that harridan!"

George disappeared inside her room, slamming the door shut behind her.

"What was that all about?" asked Kid.

"Kid," replied Heyes with a smirk as he pulled the door shut behind him, "I think George was trying to protect your virtue."

"My what?" Kid's voice ratcheted upwards in surprise.

"Your reputation as a gentleman," clarified Heyes. "George tried telling Charley's mother that you weren't a fortune hunter."

Kid rolled his eyes and tilted his head upwards with a groan of exasperation. Heyes padded across the carpet and stopped for a moment beside the sofa.

"George ain't never gonna convince Charley's mother of anything," declared Kid. "That woman already made up her mind about me long before she met me."

Heyes took off his suitcoat and laid it across the back of the sofa, then continued on to stand in front of the big bay window. He pretended to be intent on the sprawling view of the city below.

"Kid," called Heyes softly. "I've told you before, you don't have to stay in this business. You could leave…"

"Montana ain't too safe right about now," interrupted the blond shootist. Kid swiveled his neck so that he looked straight at his partner. "Are you trying to get me killed?"

An involuntary shudder racked through Heyes at his partner's question.

"No, but there's other places you could go," continued Heyes. He tried to sound nonchalant. "You could stay here in San Francisco, or go to Denver," he hesitated, then added, "or even Boston."

For a moment there was silence in the parlor. Then the sound of a chair scraped across the floor caused Heyes to turn. His partner stood beside the table, shaking his curly blond head.

"Charley told you she asked me to go to Boston," stated Kid in a level tone.

"Yeah," admitted Heyes. "If you wanted to settle down…"

"Charley don't love me Heyes," Kid interrupted. "She loves the idea of some imaginary man, a prince or a knight or a hero of some sort, but she don't know nothin' about me. She thinks I've gone straight and become a bodyguard."

"You could…" started Heyes.

"No Heyes, I couldn't," interrupted Kid. He swallowed and turned his head to look down at the open newspaper. Kid tapped his finger on the document. "We've got a job to do, and we might want to hurry up and finish it before someone else finishes it first."

"What do you mean Kid?" asked Heyes.

The slender man hurried back to the table. The headline in smaller type below the fold proclaimed popular San Francisco eatery _Fred's Chophouse_ burned to the ground last night.

"Silky ain't said nothing about those papers we brought to him Friday night," added Kid. "If he's still missing deeds, we need find them quick before that fella Han burns down everything Freddy owns."

Heyes pursed his lips. As plans went, search and destroy was a bit extreme in his opinion.

"Han got his people and his money back, but when we met him the other night he was still searching," murmured Heyes. "What else is he after?"

"Or who?" added Kid.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"We're gonna have Prince Wilhelm ride by the _Roaring Tiger_ ," stated Heyes, "but remember, we're only looking to get the lay of the place. We're not stopping."

The partners stepped out of the elevator Monday afternoon. Heyes loosened the collar of his dark button down shirt, glad that he only wore a vest over his shirt and black riveted denim trousers. It was going to be another sweltering day. Kid was dressed more formally as befitted a Prince. The younger man wore a short navy blue riding coat cut from the same fabric as the double breasted tail coat he'd worn to the ball, a cream colored shirt, dark pants and polished boots. Kid nodded agreement to Heyes plan, but then abruptly stopped walking.

"C'mon Kid," urged Heyes, but his partner stared across the lobby at the carriage circle.

Heyes turned to see what had caught Kid's attention. A sturdy carriage was being loaded with steamer trunks and carpet bags. Two familiar women were at the guest registration desk.

"Kid," began Heyes.

But it was too late. The muscular blond had already changed directions.

"Heyes," asked Kid, "would you give me a minute? I gotta say goodbye proper."

Charley signed something on the desk and turned to go to the carriage. Her mother turned as well. Heyes couldn't help but compare the difference in the two women's expressions. Charley's dark eyes lit up and her mouth curved upwards in a smile of welcome. Her mother's face tightened into a frown, the dark eyes glowering. Kid stepped forward and extended his hand to Charley.

"Miss," offered the gentle twenty-one year old, "may I help you to your carriage?"

Oblivious to her mother's dark look, Charley extended her hand to accept Kid's.

"Thank you," replied the dancer's soft voice. Her chin quivered for just a moment. "I'd be delighted."

As Kid escorted Charley to the waiting carriage, Heyes stepped in front of her mother. The schemer smiled, and when she tried to go around him, Heyes side stepped her.

"Ma'am," offered the conniving Kansan, determined to give his partner a few extra moments, "may I help you to your carriage?"

"Get out of my way," snapped Charley's mother.

The older woman stepped past Heyes and stopped abruptly with a hiss. Heyes turned. A smile spread across his face. Kid stood by the open carriage door. Charley stood on the step leading up to the seating compartment, her hands on either side of Kid's face. Their lips were locked together, and Kid's hands were in a very friendly position on either side of Charley's waist.

"Tell your friend to keep away from my daughter," hissed Charley's mother as she stepped towards the couple.

"My partner can make up his own mind. It's up to you to convince your daughter to keep away from him," responded Heyes.

"I'll make sure she's never west of the Mississippi again," seethed the disagreeable woman.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Fold," declared Horace later that evening. "And deal me out."

The former Boston Bandit stood up from the table. George raked in the matchsticks with a smirk.

"Are you leaving Horace?" asked Heyes.

"Yeah," answered the slim man. He twirled one end of his dark pointed moustache. "I've got to be at the freight depot early tomorrow morning. The stage props for the Barrett production of _Henry V_ are supposed to be arriving. I just hope everything arrives together. Last time a stage troupe from back East came I had to go pick up stage props from the depot every day for a week."

"I thought them fellas don't arrive until Saturday," objected Kid. "Ain't they on the Lightning Express?"

"The actors are," snorted Horace. "It's a big publicity stunt to have the Booth Theater folks on the express train. I'll be bringing them all here Sunday after the show, they're gonna be taking over the sixth floor."

"What kind of stage props are you picking up tomorrow?" asked Heyes.

"Costumes and manikins mostly," answered Horace.

"Manikins?" asked Kid looking puzzled. "What for?"

"The stage director wanted enough manikins to make it look like the stage is full of British and French soldiers," replied Horace. "This play has got lots of battle scenes."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Boys," answered Silky on Tuesday, "you've located everything except the deed to the house on Nob Hill."

The partner's exchanged a disappointed glance. The white haired conman pushed aside the papers and tray of keys upon his desk and stood up. He turned to face the window overlooking the small fenced in garden. Eleanor and the girls were outside beneath a shade tree.

"So we continue with Harry's plan to run up the Prince's expenses," replied Kid glumly.

"If Prince Wilhelm defaults on his debts, will it be enough so that Freddy can't make the end of June tax and licensing payments?" asked Heyes.

"I don't know," replied Silky, turning back to face them. "I guess it depends upon whether or not the insurance companies come through with the payments for his burned out businesses."

"Freddy collects insurance money?" exclaimed Kid in surprise.

"He oughta," answered Silky. "Unless he don't have insurance."

"Or unless Freddy's paying someone to burn down his businesses," mused Heyes.

Heyes rubbed his chin, thinking. Brown eyes caught his partners. Kid shook his head.

"Heyes, that fella Han ain't working for Freddy," reminded Kid. "Burning the laundry was personal."

"Yeah," agreed Heyes. "And we know Han blew the Finance offices, but it sure would be nice if we could pin those fires on Freddy."

"Boys, I got enough of my stocks and deeds back to take care of Eleanor and the girls," declared Silky. He shook his head worriedly. "I don't want neither one of you getting caught up in any feud between Freddy and that fella Han. It ain't worth the risk!"

Heyes fingered the last three keys on the metal ring in his pocket. He glanced at his partner. The subtle nod of the blond head indicated agreement.

"After all Harry's hard work to get the prince an invitation to the _Roaring Tiger_ ," replied Heyes with a smirk, "it would be a shame if we didn't show up."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Heyes."

Kid pushed the Wednesday morning Chronicle across the mahogany table. Heyes raised his eyebrow as he read the article.

"Ooh, _Be Dazzled_ was robbed." Heyes winced. "The thieves blew the safe with dynamite, the explosion set the building on fire."

"You weren't there to open it for them," smirked Kid. "At least the fire department kept the damage contained to the one building."

"But Kid," replied Heyes shaking his head, "dynamite would probably damage the jewels inside the safe."

"Heyes," asked Kid, "do you really think Han is looking for jewels?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"There's been another fire," informed Heyes.

Kid looked across the mahogany table. Heyes tapped the headline on the Thursday morning Chronicle.

"Where?"

"Private residence belonging to Frederick Houseman, Esquire," read Heyes. He smiled. "I wasn't looking forward to peeking under Freddy's bed anyway."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"You're lucky Freddy didn't cancel tonight," declared Harry. "There's been some trouble this week."

The flashy black and gold Berliner proceeded through the streets of San Francisco. Harry sat on the bench seat opposite the partners. The partner's exchanged a smirk.

"So we've heard," replied Heyes. His smirk widened to a dimpled grin. He decided to prod Harry for more information. "Anything to do with the Schuetzen Verein?"

Harry's reaction was unexpected, his face blanched.

"Whatever you do, don't say those words," demanded Harry.

"Why not Harry?" needled Heyes.

"Freddy's been trying to become a member for years," explained Harry. "Part of why I had Kid set up as a German prince was an attempt to influence the group's membership board."

"Aww," grinned Heyes. "And here I thought you were trying to influence Miss Adler."

"Miss Adler ain't interested in anything but her newspaper stories," conceded Harry with a sour expression on his face. "Dangling membership in front of Freddy was just another piece of bait."

"My partner isn't bait!" snapped Heyes.

Harry stopped speaking, realizing his mistake. The dapper conman's eyes narrowed in the face of Heyes' ire. The stiff starched collar of Heyes' white dress shirt rustled as he leaned forward, his dark brown eyes smoldered.

"Let's go over the plan once more Harry," urged Heyes, "from the top."

"What's to go over?" demanded Harry in a belligerent tone. He sniffed, curling up his lips in a snooty manner. "Your partner plays poker, he loses big. End of story."

"How much do I have to lose tonight?" asked Kid in a quiet voice.

"Not much actually, we've nearly gone through the entire line of credit," smirked Harry.

"We've spent a hundred thousand dollars?" exploded Kid. The folds of his Prussian blue cloak fell back from his white silk shirt as he bolted upright. "On what?"

"Nearly eight weeks in the Palace, shopping, dining, contributions to various worthwhile projects…"

"How much Harry," interrupted Heyes, his glowering face mere inches from Harry's. "How much more does Kid have to lose tonight, that will further your plan but still allow us to stay in San Francisco long enough to see the Pierce and Hamilton expo on the fifteenth?"

"Or have you forgotten that part of our plan?" asked Kid, his blue eyes hard. "Heyes has already retrieved most of Silky's property."

"We're only missing one more deed," huffed Heyes. "The only reason we're still working with you in this half-baked scheme of yours is that last piece of paper, but we don't want to have to run out of town without seeing the expo."

Harry looked from one partner to the other and gulped. The carriage slowed to turn onto Pacific Street.

"Keep your losses to no more than five thousand," answered Harry. "Since Freddy's financial building was destroyed, he's missing the loan papers. It will take at least two weeks before he sends someone to collect."

Kid leaned back on the cushioned bench seat. He stretched out his long legs, placing his booted heels on the cushion beside Harry. Heyes smiled and leaned back putting his feet up as well.

"Try to keep out of trouble Harry," advised Heyes.

"You two aren't really mad at each other," realized Harry. "You're working together."

"Of course we are Harry," replied Heyes, "it's what partners do."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"I wouldn't exactly call the _Roaring Tiger_ a gentlemen's club," whispered Heyes as the partners followed Harry inside.

The front room was set up like almost any gambling joint they'd ever seen. The crowded room had a wide bar, several poker tables, a black jack table and a roulette wheel. Women in various stages of undress leaned indolently against the wide stairway or wriggled in between tables. Kid removed his cloak and draped it over his left arm.

"Yeah," agreed Kid in a low voice. "It ain't nothin' but a saloon with a high stakes poker game and a brothel."

"Where do you suppose Freddy keeps the safe?" asked Heyes.

A burly guard opened a pair of doors leading to a gaudy room bedecked with red velvet curtains and a shimmering chandelier. The room was dominated by a huge round green felted poker table. Harry sauntered past the table to a bar along the far wall of the room. The stout figure of Freddy Houseman sat facing the door. Other invitees to the poker game surrounded the table. One empty chair awaited Kid.

"How are you gonna look with all these people here?" whispered Kid.

"I'll figure out something," assured Heyes. "You just keep him busy here."

The balding man beckoned Kid forward. Freddy chomped on the stub of a cigar, stubble lined his chins.

"Gents," called Freddy, "lemme introduce you to his royal highness. He don't speak much, but I hear he knows how to play poker."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes surveyed the front room once more. He shook his head. This wasn't a place for a safe. He caught the attention of a woman nearby. A smile lit up her face for a moment.

"Which way to the water closet?" asked Heyes.

"Down the hall," answered the buxom woman, "second door on the left."

In the empty hallway, Heyes stopped at the first door on the left. It was locked. A few swift prods with his lock pick and the door opened to reveal a store room. Barrels of liquor mostly. Sacks of dried weeds piled waist high. Heyes crossed the hall to the first door on the right. It opened easily. Inside the smoky room were several beds. Men lounged back, holding long pipes over glowing lanterns.

"You wanta smoke?" asked an ancient crone.

"Which way to the water closet?" repeated Heyes shaking his head.

In the bathroom, Heyes took a moment to loosen the top buttons of his white shirt before staggering up the rear staircase to the next floor. The first doorway on the long narrow corridor opened easily. A woman squealed. An angry male voice demanded an explanation.

"'m looking for Jenkins," leered Heyes as he tilted sideways feigning drunkenness. "His wife is downstairs."

"Never heard of him, now get outta here!"

Heyes had the same results on the next three rooms. On the fourth room, he was told to try next door. He switched names when he opened the door to the next room and then continued down the corridor. The eighth room had something different.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"We need to leave," whispered Heyes to Harry when he reached the private poker room again.

Heyes leaned back, resting his elbows against the bar beside the blond conman. He'd straightened his shirt up before returning. He glanced at the green felt covered table. They were now down to only four players. Kid had his poker face firmly in place, the cloak draped over the back of his chair. Freddy was dealing again, and frowning.

"I'll say we need to leave! If Freddy will let us! What does your partner think he's doing?" hissed Harry.

"Based on the pile of gold coins in front of him, I'd say Kid's winning," smirked Heyes.

"He ain't supposed to be winnin'!" grumbled Harry.

"There's no accounting for lady luck," replied Heyes. Then he added, "We need to leave. Now."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Quiet," ordered Heyes as the three men approached the waiting Berliner. "Don't say a word or one of Freddy's men might hear."

"Hear what?" asked Harry.

"You!" huffed Kid in a low whisper, elbowing the man. "Keep quiet!"

Heyes opened the door just a enough to allow a man to climb inside. Harry stopped and gawked. Kid was more discreet. The tall blond arched an eyebrow upwards.

"Who..." began Harry.

"Sssh! Just get inside," hissed Kid.

Heyes climbed in last and squeezed into the rear bench seat between Kid and Harry. He rapped on the roof of the carriage letting Silky's driver know it was time to go. The wheels turned, rattling over stones.

"Who are they?" demanded Harry. "Where did they come from?"

Heyes smiled and reached for the lock pick in his vest pocket. He held it up for the Asian woman seated across from him to see before he reached for the handcuffs at her wrist. He nodded to the young blonde woman seated across from Harry. The scantily clad girl was younger than Kid, but had a hard jaded look to her blue eyes that Heyes had never seen in his partner.

"This is Susie," introduced Heyes. He inserted the pick in the keyhole of the handcuffs. "She used to work for Freddy."

"Or is she still workin' for Freddy?" huffed Harry.

"I quit working for Freddy the minute what's his name said he could get us outta that place," snapped Susie with a gesture towards Heyes.

"And you really expect me to believe that?"

The glare Susie directed at Harry was a clear indication that she didn't care what he thought. The conman shifted uncomfortably on the seat. Harry bumped Heyes' arm, resulting in the handcuff jiggling in his hand. Heyes frowned, removed the lock pick with an apologetic glance to the woman across from him, then started over. On his right, Kid took the blue cloak from his arm and shook it out in the space between the two seats. Strong arms held the heavy blue fabric out towards the dark eyed child seated across from him. The girl was dressed in loose cotton drawstring pants and a long smock top. Like the adult beside her, she was handcuffed.

"She looks cold," observed Kid.

He glanced at the adult seated across from Heyes, a question in his blue eyes. There was a moments hesitation, a glance at the shivering child, then a quick nod. Kid leaned forward and tucked the cloak gently around the girl's shoulders.

"You can move it when you're ready to take off her cuffs," stated Kid.

"Might be awhile," acknowledged Heyes. "I've got to finish her mother's hand cuffs and then get the ones off her ankles."

"Huh?" Kid craned his neck to see the woman's feet. "Now what did they go and do that for?"

"Her feet ain't bound like some China women and you ain't seen her kick," snorted Susie. "Or you wouldn't be askin'."

Kid glanced at the young woman seated at the opposite end of the carriage.

"I'll try not to do anything that makes her want to kick me."

Susie gave a little huff and crossed her arms over her chest inadvertently revealing a bit more flesh. Kid turned back to Heyes.

"Thought you were looking for a safe," murmured the sturdy blond.

"I never did find Freddy's safe," admitted Heyes, "but I figure I've found what Li Han might be looking for."

At the sound of Li Han's name, the child's almond shaped eyes widened. The wrists in Heyes' hands tensed. The woman recognized the name too. Another twist of the lock pick and the handcuffs fell open.

"What are we gonna do with them?" blustered Harry.

"Same as we did with everything else we took from Freddy," answered Kid. "We take them to Silky."

"Yeah Kid," grinned Heyes. "Grampa Silky will know what to do with them until we can find Han."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"What did you bring 'em here for?" demanded the spry white haired man.

The child was wrapped in Kid's blue cloak. The older woman's defiant eyes glared at Silky. She tightened her arm around the child's shoulders.

"Silky, they might be some of Han's people," explained Heyes. "If not, somebody's got to be looking for them."

"What am I supposed to do with 'em?"

"Just watch out for them until we can find Han," urged Kid.

The septugenarian opened the door wide and beckoned them inside. He turned to face the stairwell.

"Eleanor!" shouted Silky. "We have guests."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Whattdya know," declared Harry Saturday morning. "The _Roaring Tiger_ burnt down last night. Musta been right after we left."

"Lemme see that paper!" demanded Heyes.

"I ain't done with it yet," objected Harry. He held up an envelope. "Horace dropped off a telegram from your friends in Colorado."

"What?" Heyes snatched the telegram out of Harry's hands and skimmed it quickly. "Horace left already? I wanted him to take a message to Dupont Street."

"The Lightening Express arrived early," chuckled Harry. He turned a page on the paper. "None of the reporters were there to meet them, Horace will be busy all day shuttling those theater folks and all their gear around today. Maybe you can get him to go later this evening."

"What about you Harry?" asked Heyes. "Can you take a message to Li Han?"

"Not me!" objected Harry. "That part of town is dangerous!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"It's stifling in here," sighed George Saturday afternoon.

The brunette stood by the window, looking down the hill to the Harbor.

"We should go out," urged George. "If we walk down to the fountain, we should be able to see Horace bringing in all those actors from New York."

"I thought them fella's weren't coming until after the show," objected Kid.

"The note he left said he'd be here this afternoon. He's bringing something," replied George. "Maybe their luggage?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"It's even hotter here," groused Harry. He took of his suit coat and slung it over one shoulder. "We should go back."

George dabbed her handkerchief into the streaming fountain and held the damp cloth to her throat.

"When will this heat wave end?" sighed George. She gave a small shrug. "I guess you're right. We should go back."

George and Harry walked ahead of the partners. Except for a cluster of people standing at the next corner, the sunny sidewalk was devoid of pedestrians. Most people stayed in beneath the shaded awnings.

"You know, we don't have to go back to Devil's Hole," mused Heyes as he walked alongside Kid. "We've already got the makings of our own gang here in San Francisco."

"What are you talking about Heyes?"

"With you, me, George, Horace, maybe Giovanni and Susie…"

Heyes voice trailed off. Kid was shaking his head. The muscular blond pulled the brass knuckles Harry had given him on their second day in town from his pocket.

"What kinda place do folks need these?"

"I dunno Kid," answered Heyes, "but at least we haven't seen anyone hauling cannons around town. We could…"

Heyes stopped. His partner was shaking his head again, or was it still?

"Timothy O'Malley could easily become part of San Francisco," continued Kid, "But I ain't stayin' here. If you like this _civilization_ , you can stay, but I'm ready to go home to Wyoming."

"Wyoming? Home?" questioned Heyes, his voice rose shrilly. "Do you really think that's home?"

"Well it sure ain't Kansas anymore and it never was San Francisco."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Kid," called Heyes. His partner's abrupt departure galvanized Heyes into motion. "Wait up!"

Kid's long legs carried him quickly past George and Harry. George turned to look back at Heyes with a questioning glance before taking off after Kid. Heyes tried to sidestep Harry, but the man clutched at his arm.

"Have another fight with your partner?" sneered Harry. "Or is this another one of your pretend fights?"

Heyes shook off Harry's grasp. George caught up to Kid at the corner. Heyes strode forward, trying to dodge the milling people.

"Watch where you're going young man!"

"Excuse me," Heyes apologized, and tried to step aside only to bump into someone else. "Pardon me."

Heyes finally reached the street corner. Further down the hilly street, bright streamers fluttered along a canopy draped above a wagon. Uphill, the carriage entrance to the Palace Hotel was visible in the distance. Kid and George were nearly there. Just beyond the entrance, small outdoor tables covered with large blue umbrellas filled the walkway. A uniformed hotel employee was placing baskets of flowers on the tables. Another man was pushing a cart heavily laden with food.

"Wait up," called Heyes.

A fire alarm sounded. Heyes watched as George grasped Kid's arm. The two paused for a moment and spoke, before Kid shook his head, shook George's grasp loose, and crossed the carriage entryway to other side. Kid turned as if to go into the courtyard. George didn't move. The brightly colored wagon, adorned with a banner advertising the play _Henry V_ , reached Heyes just as he caught up with George. Heyes glimpsed Horace driving the ponderous vehicle as it slowed to make the tight turn into the hotel courtyard. Kid disappeared from Heyes' sight.

"What did Kid say?" demanded Heyes. "Where is he going?"

George turned to face him, her mouth opened to speak, but then her eyes widened. She pointed. Heyes turned to look. Horse drawn steamers followed by a ladder truck raced up Montgomery Street. Harry dodged out of the way. The suit coat draped over his shoulder flapped free. Horses panicked at the sudden motion. The horses pulling the lead steamer wagon bolted. The wagon careened wildly, swinging left and right. A wagon wheel cracked as it hit a curb.

"Whoa!" shouted the driver shouted to no avail.

"Augh!"

"Look out!"

More screams sounded as frantic people leapt out of the way. The steamer neared Heyes and George, the driver pulled on the reins as hard as he could. An impossibly loud crash sounded as the wagon tongue snapped. The driver jumped. The horses ran on. The steamer wagon cartwheeled end over end, crashing into the theater wagon with a loud bang. The heavier steamer scrunched the smaller wagon up against the Palace wall. For a moment there was only the sound of wheels spinning, frightened horses neighing, boards creaking. Then pandemonium broke out.

"Augh!"

"Look at the blood!"

"Somebody get a doctor!"

Heyes stared at the red smear covering the stones by the broken theater wagon. Red liquid trickled across the carriage entrance. A hand protruded from beneath the broken wagon.

"Oh my God!" gasped George, her face turned ashen.

Heyes couldn't breathe. He just stared at the red trickle coming towards him.

"Is this how the world ends?" wondered Heyes.

He didn't notice the brunette beside him sway in shock. And no one heard the small whimper that escaped from his mouth.

"Kid?"

Because, for the first time in her life, Georgette Sinclair actually fainted. And no one caught her.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Heyes!"

Someone called his name. Brown eyes blinked. The red smear across the entryway was still there. Nervous horses neighed. Men shouted. The broken wagon bits began to move as men pulled mangled boards, splintered wheels, a fire hose. Someone called his name again. Someone grabbed him by the arm and shook him. Heyes looked up to see the blond conman. Harry.

"That ain't your partner," declared Harry.

"Huh?"

The blond man grabbed Heyes by the collar, and dragged him two steps to the right. Heyes could now see around the mess of broken wagons. A disheveled hotel employee sat sprawled on the walkway next to an overturned cart. Red sauce dripped from a large metal stock pot. The man howled in outrage.

"It's ruined! Youse can't have cheesecake without strawberry puree!"

Harry brandished a disembodied arm and waved it in front of Heyes' face.

"That ain't blood," insisted Harry. "These ain't real body parts, they're from the stage props!"

Horace limped up to stand behind Harry. The dapper Boston bandit was disheveled, hair awry, shirt torn.

"That ain't your partner!" declared Harry.

Heyes shuddered as breath returned to his body. That awful red smear wasn't… wasn't… The mind began to think again. If that wasn't Kid…

"Then where is he?" howled Heyes.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Careful," called a guttural voice. "Boss don't want him hurt, least ways not much."

A roar of unfriendly laughter followed the man's statement. Kid blinked his eyes. A nauseating swirl of colors closed the blue eyes again. Kid groaned. The strain on his shoulders and feel of his feet hitting the ground told him he was being dragged.

"Not yet," added another harsh voice.

A grating metallic squeal was accompanied by the sound of something heavy being dragged. Kid blinked again to see an open door. He caught a glimpse of a dry rub mark in the dirt where the heavy wooden door had been pulled open. Stairs. Kid flailed as he tumbled head over heels down the damp uneven steps.

"At least it's cool down here," thought Kid before he passed out again.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	12. Home Again

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Chapter 12: Home Again

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Ma'am," a concerned voice called, a hand patted her cheek. George felt another hand take hers and the patting moved to her hand. "Are you alright?"

"Unh?"

George struggled to sit up. Her head ached and her eyes blurred in and out of focus. A pair of boots stomped by followed by hooves clip clopping after. Someone leading a team of horses away realized George.

"Are you alright?" repeated the voice.

George turned her face and scrunched her eyes tight. George recognized the concierge at the Palace Hotel. Diego's worried face looked down at her. She looked around.

"What happened?" asked George. "Why am I sitting on the walkway beside the carriage entrance?"

Diego hauled her upright and stepped to one side. The site of the shattered wagons caused George to sway again. Red liquid streamed across the pavement. Heyes. Heyes stood before the wagons, Horace on one side of him, Harry on the other. Kid. Where was Kid? A howl of anguish came from Heyes, the words indistinguishable. George set her jaw tightly, trying to control her quivering chin. Now wasn't the time to cry. Kid had asked her to do something and she was gonna do it.

"Diego," asked George, startled at how shaky her voice sounded, "Where is the nearest telegraph office?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Mr. Curry was talking to two men when I turned the wagon," answered Horace. The flustered man pointed to the walkway where the waiter was now attempting to mop up the spilled strawberry puree, but seemed to be doing more slipping and sliding than anything. "He was right there."

"Talking to who?" asked Heyes as he turned to his friend. Then noting Horace's disheveled appearance, he asked, "What about you? Are you alright? What about the actors? Was anyone hurt?"

"I'm fine," answered Horace. He looked puzzled. "What actors?"

"The folks coming from New York," answered Heyes. An eyebrow went up. "Weren't you picking them up today?"

"I was only picking up wardrobe and props, anyone inside the wagon woulda been killed," answered Horace. He looked at the crashed wagons and shuddered. "Didn't you get my note?"

Heyes narrowed his eyes and looked at Harry. The conman smiled weakly. Beyond Harry, he saw George standing beside Diego. She looked to be shaky, but fine. Heyes returned his attention to Horace.

"By the time I got your note," answered Heyes, "coffee had been spilled on it. The ink ran. Harry told me the train arrived early and you were bringing folks here."

"I said the train was running ahead of schedule," corrected Horace, "but the only thing I was getting today was the freight shipment. Good thing too!"

"I'm glad no one was hurt," agreed Heyes as he eyed the shattered wagon. "But where's Kid?"

Heyes stepped forward, looking around in confusion. The umbrella covered tables didn't have any place to hide a full grown man. His foot squelched and he almost slipped on a streak of strawberry puree. The irate waiter looked up from his work.

"Youse again!" protested the waiter. "Ain't you and your friends caused enough trouble for one day?"

"My partner?" asked Heyes. "You saw my partner?"

The waiter snorted in disgust.

"Bad enough you and your friend keep using my delivery elevator," grumbled the man, "but those fellas with your friend spilled my strawberry puree!"

"Which way did they go?" asked Heyes, holding his breath, hoping.

"They all got in a buggy over there," grumbled the waiter. He sloshed the dripping mop over the pink mess. "Now why they wanna go eat at that awful Fred's Chophouse when they's got a perfectly good restaurant here is beyond me!"

"Fred's Chophouse?" asked Heyes. "What makes you think they went there? Didn't that place burn down?"

The man stopped mopping for a moment and pursed his lips, concentrating.

"I think youse right," nodded the waiter. "Don't know where they're goin' then, just know that big fella was the second cook at Fred's Chophouse! An' he don't know how to cook worth a darn!"

The mop started its back and forth motion again. Heyes backed away from its approach.

"Horace, Harry," hissed Heyes, "did you hear that?"

"Yeah," answered Horace, "some of Freddy's men got Kid."

The dark haired Kansan pivoted around, bringing himself toe to toe with the blond conman. Heyes had once told Kid that Harry was the kind of person that might make a mistake that gets someone killed. He hoped Harry wasn't double crossing them.

"Harry?" asked Heyes in a low dangerous voice, "Do you have any idea why some of Freddy's men would come after my partner?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"Maybe he figured out you and Kid took those women?" suggested Harry.

"No," replied Heyes shaking his head. "Susie and I left the window open and a trail leading from the house going away from the carriage house. Nobody saw us get them into the Berliner, I'm sure of it!"

Harry swallowed.

"Maybe because Kid beat him at poker?" guessed Harry.

"Maybe," agreed Heyes. Dark brown eyes glared at Harry. "Or maybe someone forgot some receipts, and a certain note came due last night."

Harry raised his hands to either side of his face.

"I don't like what you're thinkin' Heyes…"

"And I don't like my partner missing!" snapped Heyes. "Where would Freddy take Kid?"

"If I had any idea where Freddy took folks," huffed Harry, "Billy might still be alive!"

Heyes jaw dropped open. He sucked in a deep breath, not sure whether to keep questioning Harry or throttle him. San Francisco was a big city. Heyes couldn't track carriage wheels on a city street and every place Freddy was known to frequent had been burned to the ground in the past week. Heyes raked his fingers through his dark hair in frustration.

"Somebody else has got to know about Freddy and his activities," reminded Horace.

"George," breathed Heyes in relief.

The worried man turned, but the pretty brunette was no longer in the carriage entryway.

"Now where did George disappear to?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Yes," replied George in a shaky voice, "to Carl Jorgensen, care of the railroad, Winnemucca Nevada."

The slim woman tried to smile, thankful that she had heard Heyes' grumbling over the receipt of a telegram from Wheat this morning. Her chin trembled. The kindly telegraph operator peered over his half-moon spectacles.

"You sure the folks getting this message will understand?"

"I hope so," George replied, her answer turning into a wail.

Holding her crumpled handkerchief to her red rimmed nose, George stumbled out of the telegraph office. Kid had insisted she send the gang a telegram if anything happened to either Heyes or himself. She just hadn't ever expected to need to send it.

"Miss?" called a voice as she reached the street side.

George turned in the direction of the voice. A burlap sack came down over her head. A large hand covered her face before she could scream. An arm around her waist lifted her up off the ground.

"Ow!"

"Ooomph!

"Watch it there, she kicks!"

Another one of her kicks connected, but then more arms grabbed her flailing legs.

"Careful," directed a hard voice, "boss don't want her hurt none."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"It's alright Diego," soothed Heyes. He finished writing the note and handed it to the concierge. Using George's alias, he instructed, "Just be sure that Mrs. Saint Clair gets this message when she returns."

The concierge nodded. Heyes turned back to Horace and Harry. Horace had scrubbed his face and now wore one of Kid's shirts. Harry had donned the suit coat that had set the horses on their stampede again.

"Where to now?" asked Harry.

"Dupont Street," answered Heyes. "I shouldn't have agreed to wait for Horace. We shoulda gone there this morning!"

"Who we gonna see Heyes?" asked Horace.

"Li Han!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Mr. Jorgensen! Mr. Jorgensen!" the boy shouted.

"Wheat," hissed Kyle in a low voice as he turned to look at the boy running towards them, "ain't you supposed to be Jorgensen?"

"Oh, yeah."

The metal pike he held clanged as Wheat dropped it. The burly man stood up straight. Tugging the sagging waistband of his pants upward, he turned away from hard jumbled rock. Wheat narrowed his eyes at the oncoming runner. It wasn't the usual messenger from their new boss, Mr. Humphries.

"Ain't that the telegraph operator's boy?"

One by one, Lobo, Preacher and Kyle straightened up. Lobo brushed back his wild hair from his sweaty forehead and squinted. Preacher leaned on his pickax and nodded. Kyle moved his wad of tobacco from one side of his jaw to another.

"Sure looks like him," agreed Lobo.

"That's him alright."

"Yep."

Kyle spat a stream of brown tobacco juice. The wet splatter sizzled on the hot rock. Panting, the boy reached them and shoved the crumpled paper towards Wheat. Wheat carefully smoothed the paper out and frowned at it. Pursed his lips, then frowned again.

"Well boys," said Wheat, "I think our days of working for the railroad is done."

Two pick axes and a metal pike clanged as they hit the ground. The boy held out his hand expectantly. Wheat looked at the hand in a puzzled manner, and stepped around the boy striding towards the town. The boy ran around and stepped in front of Wheat, blocking his path.

"Ain't you gonna give me a tip?"

"A tip?" asked Wheat. Then he smiled broadly. "Yeah, don't run in the middle of the dessert when the sun is shining so hot!"

Stepping past the boy, Wheat began trudging his way back to the handcart on the last bit of rail actually connected to the main line. Lobo, Preacher and Kyle hurried to join the mustached outlaw.

"Where we going?" asked Lobo.

"Outta here," answered Wheat.

"Praise the Lord!" sang out Preacher.

"Preacher? I thought you was glad we got transferred outta Fort Garland," asked Kyle, "don't you like Winnemucca?"

"I'm glad we got outta Fort Garland before we all got locked up," answered Preacher. He nodded towards the hill where a small band of Paiutes was camped. "But Miss Running Doe keeps tryin' to feed me. It's making me nervous!"

The littlest outlaw bounded in front of the men and bounced up and down eagerly shooting out more questions.

"Was the tellygram from Heyes? Huh? Or Kid? Was it Kid? What did the tellygram say Wheat?" asked Kyle.

"Neither. The telegram was from some fella named George," answered Wheat. He tugged the loose waist of his pants upward again. With a knowing smile, he added, "Message said go back home, but I know what it really means."

"What's it mean Wheat?" asked Kyle. For a moment he looked even more confused than usual. "All the other telegrams between Ma and her son Carl have been pretty straight forward."

Wheat stopped. Lobo bumped into Wheat, and then gave a soft " _oomph!"_ of protest when Preacher sandwiched Lobo against Wheat's back. The burly outlaw in charge balled up his fists against his hips and leaned forward.

"Now do you really think Heyes or Kid either one is gonna give some fella named George a message to send that just anybody can unnerstand?" demanded Wheat.

"Well when ya put it like that…," began Kyle.

"It's a code," insisted Wheat. "Home don't mean home for us, we ain't got one!"

"Then what's it mean?" asked Kyle.

"It means we're going to San Francisco."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Where are you taking me?" demanded George.

The burlap bag over her head was disorienting. Her wrists were tied loosely in front of her and every time the closed carriage jolted, George found herself colliding with one or the other of her captors.

"Boss will tell ya iffen he wants you to know," answered a rough voice.

"You can't just kidnap a person in broad daylight!" continued George.

"We did!" guffawed another harsh voice.

"Someone will have seen you," retorted George. "They'll tell the police! They'll tell my friends!"

A steamer horn bellowed. The noise, along with the tang of salt in the air and the low tide smell of kelp drying in the hot afternoon sun, told George they were near the harbor. Wheels squealed to a stop.

"My friends will be very upset when they find out you've kidnapped me!" argued George. She tried for intimidation. "And they're not the kind of men you want angry at you!"

Harsh laughter was followed by an arm grabbing George around the waist. She immediately began kicking and flailing, to no avail. The man lurched her over his shoulder.

"Let go of me!" demanded George. "Put me down this instant!"

George heard hinges squeak and the sound of wood scraped against dirt. She was summarily thumped down on a cold wet stone step. The scraping noise sounded again, followed by a metal clank as a key turned in a lock. What little light she could see through the weft of the burlap disappeared. The determined woman raised her hands and tugged at the burlap bag. It came off easily. She bit the knot on the thin rope binding her wrists and tugged upwards to free her hands. A small sliver of light shone through a crack in the door above her head. A spider ran across the uneven wood. George scooted down one more of the steep steps. The steps were slippery with dampness wafting up from the darkened cellar.

"Don't leave me here!" shouted George. She scrambled up on her knees and pounded on the sloping cellar door, oblivious to the spider. "You can't leave me here!"

But the men who had imprisoned her didn't answer. Instead a voice called from the cellar below.

"George?"

The brunette froze. She turned to stare down into the darkness.

"George, is that you?"

"Kid?"

A muffled groan sounded. George scooted down the narrow damp L-shaped stairway. In the dim light, she saw her friend laying on the damp stones. Kid winced as he pushed himself upright.

"Oh Kid!" exclaimed George.

The brunette rushed forward and crouched beside him. Aside from a bruise on the side of his jaw and a purple goose egg rising on his forehead, her young friend looked fine.

"I'm so glad to see you!" cried George. "Are you alright?"

George threw her arms around Kid's shoulders and hugged him to her chest without giving Kid a chance to answer.

"Mmmfff."

Half crying and half laughing, she first hugged his shoulders and covered the top of his head with kisses. Then George stopped abruptly, leaned back, frowned, balled up her small fist and punched Kid in his left pectoral muscle.

"Don't you ever do that to me again!" George wailed.

"Ow!" protested Kid. "What did I do?"

"I thought you were dead!"

"Well I ain't!"

George sniffled and gave Kid a crooked smile. Kid shivered. He drew his long legs up close to his body and wrapped his arms around his knees.

"Are you cold?" asked George.

He nodded. George took one hand and started to rub it, but Kid pulled back.

"We ought to get up on the steps," suggested Kid.

"Why?" asked George.

Kid placed her hand on his lower leg. George fingered the wet fabric on his shins. Kid pointed to a glistening puddle where his legs had been.

"Water is coming in."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Li Han?" asked Heyes. "Do you know where I can find Li Han?"

The man he'd grasped by the arm jerked free of his hand and shook his head before disappearing into the crowd. Heyes stared around the bustling street. The sweet scent of smoke drifted from the nearest building. Women leaned out of windows from the building across the street beckoning. A man balancing heavily laden baskets of vegetables hung from a pole over his shoulders hurried by. Heyes could only guess at the purposes of some of the buildings identified by unfamiliar signs.

"How are we ever gonna find Han?" asked Horace. He twirled his narrow thin black pointed mustache nervously. "That's the third fella you asked and ain't no one seems to know the name."

"Now you see why I didn't want to come here," sniffed Harry.

Heyes turned to face his companions and started to speak, but was interrupted by a child tugging on his arm. Heyes looked down to see a small, dark haired boy.

"Li Han," stated the boy. Then with a beckoning gesture he urged Heyes to follow.

"Boys," smiled Heyes, "I think Han found us."

Heyes, Horace and Harry followed the boy across the length of Chinatown to another busy street. The neatly appointed buildings on this street had signs in both Chinese characters and English text. The boy led Heyes, Horace and Harry into a shop labeled Custom Imports. The child waved at the man behind the counter and continued to the rear of the building. He stopped and pointed to the open door of the office. A man was seated facing the window, his back to the keyhole desk that dominated the room. File cabinets and bookshelves lined the inner walls. A painting of a hummingbird seeking nectar from a flower spanned the wall on the right. Heyes stepped inside the room. Horace and Harry followed close behind, flanking him. The man in the chair spun around to face Heyes.

"Han," greeted Heyes.

The attentive strategist tried not to let his shock show. Unlike their previous meetings with Han, the formidable man's eyes looked desolate, devoid of life. Han's lips spread across his face in a tight smile. The Oriental man leaned forward and pressed his forearms against the desk, steepling his fingers together in a familiar manner.

"What brings you to Chinatown?" asked Han.

"Information about Houseman," declared Heyes. He rocked back on his heels, placing his hands on his hips as he continued, treading carefully, trying not to sound accusatory, "I would go to him directly, but all the places I would normally look have burned down."

"That is most regrettable," replied the man in an emotionless tone.

"It's more than regrettable!" lashed out Heyes. Leaning forward, he placed his hands on the desk bringing himself eye level with Han. "My partner is missing. Houseman has him, and I can't find either of them! Do you have any idea where Houseman might hide someone?"

Heyes sucked in a sharp breath at the change in the man before him. Han's eyes shuttered, cold and hard.

"I assure you, Mr. Houseman is no longer hiding anyone," declared Han.

A moment of silence followed the man's chill words. Then Harry blurted out the question they were all wondering.

"Did you kill him?"

"Harry!" hissed Horace.

Across from Heyes, Han inhaled quietly and placed his hands palm down upon the desk.

"I'm a businessman, not a murderer," Han replied. He rose to stand and turned to face the window again. "I have it on good authority that Mr. Houseman has taken a long voyage."

Heyes swallowed at the tone of finality in Han's voice.

"I understand Mr. Houseman is going to China," continued Han. "It may be years before he returns to San Francisco, if ever."

"You had him shanghaied," declared Harry.

"Shut up Harry," snapped Heyes. He spoke to Han's back. "I saw Houseman at the _Roaring Tiger_ last night. When did he leave?"

Han turned back to face the three men.

"You were at the _Roaring Tiger_ last night?" asked Han with a slight lift in is voice that betrayed his surprise.

"Yeah," answered Heyes. "And my partner was taken by men that work for Houseman around one o'clock this afternoon."

"Houseman left before sunrise this morning. It is possible that Mr. Houseman's associates did not receive word of his unexpected travel plans," conceded Han. He hesitated. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"No, but I did find a woman and child locked up," replied Heyes shaking his head. "According to the woman set to guard them, Freddy's been moving them from place to place for the last several weeks, holding them for ransom from some fella."

A flare of hope lit up Han's eyes.

"And where are they now?" asked Han. "Are they alright?"

"I told ya before, I got a thing against locking folks up," reminded Heyes. "My partner and I got them outta there and took them to my friend's home for safe keeping."

"I helped," interjected Harry.

"Quiet Harry," hissed Horace.

The Oriental man kept his eyes fixed on Heyes.

"They're fine, but they don't speak English," continued Heyes, "I was kinda hoping you'd do me a favor and go with Horace to my friend's house. Talk to them, see if you can find out where they belong."

"I would… I would be glad to be of assistance," breathed Han.

Heyes swallowed. There was a tightness in the pit of his chest, but he had to ask.

"Can you think of anyplace that Mr. Houseman's associates might have taken my partner?" asked Heyes.

"Mr. Houseman's associates were not my concern, but Houseman owns a warehouse near the southernmost city docking area," answered Han. "It's just past the harbormaster's office. It's been empty for the past three weeks, but it's the only other place I can think of to look."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"The next train to San Francisco is the express, it should be arriving sometime after eight, but it's sold out," answered the Winnemucca stationmaster. "I can get you on the first train to San Francisco Tuesday morning."

"No," frowned Wheat. "We're in a bit of a hurry."

"You ain't getting' there any sooner!" declared the stationmaster as Wheat turned to face Kyle, Preacher and Lobo.

"We'll see about that," smirked Wheat as they stalked out of the railroad station.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Harry pulled the reins of the buggy, turning the light weight surrey down towards the harbor. Behind them, the setting sun cast long shadows. Ships tied to docks rocked gently on the rising tide.

"I looked all over this area when Billy went missing in January," declared Harry. "There ain't nothin' here."

Heyes fingered the paper in his hands and looked at the address Han had provided.

"Unless you got a better idea," glowered Heyes, "this is where we're gonna look."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"You're shivering," declared George.

The brunette sat upon the cellar's narrow top step, her arms crossed in front of her chest, hands rubbing her slim arms. George's hemline trailed in the water beside Kid. The muscular blond sat on the next step with water up to his chest.

"First time I've been glad of the heat wave," replied Kid. His teeth chattered. "I can't imagine how cold the water would be otherwise."

"You could sit up here," offered George, "warm up…"

"No," objected Kid. "With all those petticoats, if they got wet and you slipped off the step, the weight would pull you straight to the bottom. I don't want to risk it."

George glanced at the crack in the door above her head. Dusky purple sky was barely visible.

"How high do you think the water will rise?" asked George in a soft whisper.

"Dunno," answered Kid, "but we both saw the dirt up by the door was dry when they brought us in here, so the tide can't go that high."

"In January it rained almost the entire month, the water level would have been higher," sighed George.

She reached a hand up and placed her fingertips against the grooves scratched in the door.

"You reckon this is where Billy drowned?" asked Kid.

"Probably, Billy had splinters beneath his fingernails when his body was found," quavered George.

A loud thump overhead sounded. Footsteps creaked across the boards. George and Kid exchanged a glance. Then both raised their voices in a shout.

"Help!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"See," sneered Harry. The door banged against the wall. Harry pointed to the empty room. "Even if Freddy was using this place as a temporary holding area when he smuggled folks in, it's empty. There ain't nothing here!"

Heyes strode across the squeaky floorboards. The only thing in the vacant warehouse was a spider dangling from one of the rafters. Sharp ears heard a muffled sound.

"What's that noise?"

"What noise?" asked Harry. "I don't hear anything."

"I hear something," insisted Heyes. "What's under the building?"

"Phfft!" snorted Harry in frustration. The conman strode over to the window and pointed outside. "This building is built right into the dock. Remember? You walked on it to get in the front door."

Harry bent over and pulled a recessed ring, lifting a section of floorboard. The sound of water lapping against pilings was audible beneath the trapdoor.

"Sometimes folks bring things in with a skiff," declared Harry. "Especially if someone's smuggling and don't wanna be seen."

"That's not the noise I heard," objected Heyes. He turned and faced the rear of the room. "The dock started at the doorway, but the building goes back further."

Heyes paced past the door. Harry followed him. The sound was louder.

"What's underneath this part of the building Harry?"

"I don't know," whispered Harry, "but I hear it too."

"I hear Kid," grinned Heyes. He squinted in puzzlement. "And is that George? What's she doing here?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Hurry up!" called George. "It's cold in here and the water is still rising."

"I didn't know there was a cellar door on the rear side of the building," repeated Harry, shaking his head. "Billy..."

"You c-could... coudn't have h-helped Billy... n-not in t-time ," chattered Kid. "It ain't y-your f-fault."

"If you would all be quiet," snapped Heyes, "I'll be able to hear the lock better while I'm picking it."

None of Freddy's remaining keys fit the lock to the cellar door. It was too dark now to see into the lock. Heyes knelt in the dry dirt, lock pick inserted in the rusty iron key hole, his eyes shut, listening, working by touch and sound alone. Click. His eyes blinked open and he pulled the handle. The door squeaked as it opened.

"My hero!" exclaimed George.

George held up one trembling hand. Heyes reached down and grasped her wrist, letting her fingers curl around his arm as he hauled her up.

"Kid?" called Heyes.

"Rrr.. ight… here," chattered the younger man. "'m… 'm fine."

George set one dripping foot after the other on the dry ground outside the cellar door. Her wet skirts clung to her legs. The warm night breeze ruffled her hair.

"I'm fine too," declared George. "Thank you for rescuing me!"

"What are you doing here?" asked Heyes. He loosened his grip on her wrist immediately and peered back down into the watery cellar. "I thought you were safe back at the Palace."

George's jaw dropped open in disbelief.

"You mean you didn't even know I was kidnapped?" she huffed. Her exhalation sent tendrils of hair fluttering around her eyes. "Then how did you find me?"

"We were looking for Kid," informed Harry.

"Hmmph!"

"Kid?" called Heyes.

George turned to look at the open cellar door. Black water shimmered in the moonlight. Heyes' voice rose higher.

"Where are you Kid?"

"He was right there!" declared George.

"He always sinks like a rock," whispered Heyes right before he took a deep breath and jumped in.

"Heyes!" screamed George.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Cold.

Even before wet, the water was cold.

Oh, that was why George sat close to the wall above Kid. Instead of landing on a step, there were no stairs where he jumped in and Heyes sank like a rock. He opened his eyes. Brackish water stung and visibility in the darkness of the cellar was nil. His feet hit bottom, and his chilled, sluggish arms reached out. One hand connected with a step. The other hand flailed about in cold wet darkness, but didn't find his partner. A burble of air escaped his mouth. Heyes flailed again, but still didn't find Kid. Another burble of air floated upwards. Heyes tried to kick upwards, intending to get another deep breath and search more, but his water filled boots held him down. A burble of air went up again as Heyes tried to remove his boot underwater. A swallow of foul tasting water was followed by several small bubbles. A strong arm grasped him by the waist and hauled him up, spluttering, into the night air. Soft hands patted his cheeks. Patted hard. Alright slapped his cheeks.

"Unh!" Heyes blinked. George's worried face appeared before him. He shoved her hands away. "Quit that!"

"Heyes! What on earth did you think you were doing?" demanded George. "What did you jump in for?"

Another face leaned over him. Curly wet hair dripped, a jaw still trembled from the cold, worried eyes met his.

"Are you alright?" asked Kid.

"Kid?" asked Heyes. "You're not drowned?"

"No," chuckled Kid. "What about you?"

"I'm not drowned either," replied Heyes with a spurt of laughter as he wriggled away from George's hands and sat up straight. "Where did you disappear to?"

"When I went to stand up, I lost my grip on one of my boots," explained Kid. "I ducked my head under the water to feel around for it and the next thing I know, you're splashing down into the cellar."

"I was coming to rescue you," declared Heyes.

Kid snorted. He leaned back against the wall of the building, stretching out his long legs. Just like Heyes, he was wet from head to toe. But his sopping wet boots were in a jumbled pile beside the cellar door.

"Right. Next time you might want to take off your boots," chuckled Kid, "I've learned it's easier to swim without 'em on."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"What happened to you?" squawked Silky when he opened the door to the brownstone. "It's nearly midnight! I've been worried sick about the whole lot of ya!"

George wore Harry's coat over her shoulders. Heyes and Kid leaned on each other as they came up the steps, arms across shoulders. Harry followed last.

"We're fine Silky," answered Heyes.

They followed George into the foyer. As Silky shut the door behind Harry, the wily old conman gestured towards his parlor. Horace poked his head out from behind the parlor door.

"Heyes, Mr. Curry! You're both back!" the former Devil's Hole Gang member smiled in relief.

"How did it go when you brought Han over here Horace?" asked Heyes.

"Oh Mr. Han was sure was happy to see that woman and little girl," grinned Horace. "And I didn't understand a word they said, but I could tell they were happy to see him too."

"Good," replied Heyes.

The dark haired outlaw released his partner. Kid leaned back against the wall and closed his tired eyes. Heyes turned towards the conman.

"Silky," began Heyes softly. "I don't think we're gonna be able to finish this con…"

"You're darn tootin' you ain't gonna finish this con!" huffed the septuagenarian.

"What?" asked Heyes.

"That fella Han told me what become of Freddy," declared Silky. His chin jutted out defiantly. "Considerin' what he thought Freddy had done to his family, I'm thinking Freddy got off easy."

"Are you okay with that?" asked Heyes.

"Gonna have to be okay with it," sniffed Silky. "Ain't nothing gonna change what happened to Billy. And the man that done it is getting' punished."

The two men stared at each other. Both recognized that there were somethings that you just had to live with, or die with.

"We didn't get the last of your deeds," sighed Heyes. "And we need to stay in town until the Pierce and Hamilton expo. We'll go back to the hotel…"

"None of you can go back to the Palace," interrupted Silky. "It ain't safe! You boys can stay here until the expo, longer iffen you want."

"What?" asked George.

"Why can't we go back to the Palace?" asked Kid.

"That blame fool reporter," huffed Silky. "She's got men with cameras all over the place looking to shoot a picture of the Prince and his paramour!"

Kid blinked open his eyes at that comment.

"Miss Adler wants what?" Kid's voice rose with incredulity.

"She wants a picture of the Prince and his English Tutor," declared Silky. "Both of you disappeared together this afternoon. She's got it set in her mind that you and George are love birds."

George squawked in protest.

"Heyes! I knew you shouldn't have told that coat check boy I was the Prince's companion!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"What's that infernal racket?" asked Silky.

The white haired man looked away from Eleanor. The Sunday breakfast table was surrounded. Eleanor sat on his right, followed by Felicity and Stephanie. Kid sat at the foot of the table. George sat between Kid and Heyes. Susie sat on Silky's left.

"Papa O'Sullivan, don't change the subject," admonished Eleanor. "It's been wonderful visiting with you this week, but the girls and I need to return to our own home…"

Silky's newest protégé elbowed Heyes in the ribs.

"You're closest to the door," hissed Susie in a low tone.

"Right," Heyes smiled and looked at everyone. He pushed his seat back and placed his napkin beside the plate. "Someone's knocking, I'll go check on it."

Heyes padded down the hallway in his stocking feet. He pulled the front door open. Horace stumbled forward as he attempted to knock again. Heyes caught the former Boston Bandit and steadied him. Then his eyes opened wide as he registered the presence of the four men standing behind Horace.

"You've gotta take them," begged Horace. "They came in on the express train this morning. If I take them to the theater, they're gonna get me arrested."

"What are you doing here boys?" asked Heyes. He released his hold on Horace and forced a smile across his face. "The last telegram I got from you said you'd been transferred to Winnemucca, Nevada."

"We was," stated Wheat, "but we got the telegram that fella George sent."

He swept his hat off his head and placed it against his chest as he stepped inside the foyer. In a symphony of movement, Preacher and Lobo followed him taking off their hats as well. Kyle stepped inside. Wheat looked askance at his partner. There was a low hiss. Heyes caught a muttered phrase _this ain't a barn!_ Wheat's elbow jabbed Kyle. The littlest outlaw's hat came off as well.

"What telegram?" asked Heyes.

"We came here to rescue you or help you rescue Kid," explained Kyle.

The tall blond shootist appeared in the corridor at that moment. His eyebrow arched upwards at Kyle's words.

"What are you boys doin' here?" asked Kid. "I don't need rescuing."

A confused expression came over Kyle's face. He looked from Kid to Heyes.

"You don't? Neither one of ya?" asked Kyle. Both Heyes and Kid shook their heads from side to side. "Then is there a bank that needs robbin'?"

"I'm sure there's one that needs robbing somewhere," answered Heyes with a smirk.

The slender man nodded at Horace. The thespian smiled in relief and backed out of the brownstone.

"Breakfast first," declared Heyes. "Come this way boys. We'll have to find some extra chairs."

The Devil's Hole Gang started back to the dining room. Kyle stumbled against the half-moon table in the entryway, setting a porcelain figurine rocking. Kid reached to catch it, but the shepherdess crashed to the floor.

"What broke?" called Silky's irascible voice.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Later that afternoon, Kid opened the front door in response to a soft knocking noise. Silky's well placed tip had ransomed their luggage from the Palace earlier.

"Delivery," announced the tiny black haired man.

"Another delivery? From who?" asked Kid. "We ain't expectin'..."

The man snapped his fingers. Three black clad Oriental men brought parcels inside, removed the wrapping and then quietly backed out of the foyer.

"Compliments of Li Han," added the small man. He bowed once before departing.

"Heyes," called Kid. "Do you want to try your hand at any of these?"

"What are you talking about Kid?" asked Heyes. He came into the foyer, stretching his arms overhead. He stopped abruptly when he saw the delivery. "How? Is this what I think it is?"

A locked strongbox, a small black wall safe, and a medium sized floor safe sat in the foyer.

"They're from Han," explained Kid.

Heyes had all three open before midnight. The deed to Silky's home on Nob Hill was in the wall safe.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Friday night Kid Curry, Hannibal Heyes and the Devil's Hole Gang had balcony seats to watch Horace Beeblemeister in his second speaking role on the San Francisco stage in the opulent stage production of Henry V. A week's worth of stubble covered Kid's jawline and tickled beneath his nose. It would be a full grown moustache and beard soon.

"Do you think they got enough of them manikins on stage?" asked Kid as the lights dimmed for the beginning of the first act.

"I don't know Kid," chuckled Heyes, "there might be an inch or two of bare floorboards showing."

Wheat was the first one to fall asleep. Heyes wasn't sure who was next, Preacher or Lobo. Kid stayed awake until the end of the first act.

At the beginning of the third act, Kyle leaned forward, chomping his tobacco, and whispered a question to Heyes.

"Them words, _Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;"_ asked Kyle, "do you think the fella that wrote them was talking about Kid or someone like Kid?"

Heyes glanced over at his sleeping partner. The disguise of a dangerous shootist definitely hid a fair natured soul. Heyes nodded.

"Could be Kyle, could be."

During the fourth act, Kyle leaned forward again.

"And we's all a band of brothers," grinned Kyle.

"Let's not shed any blood though," cautioned Heyes.

The actor portraying Corporal Nym, a pretty good bad guy, got a standing ovation from the folks in the balcony.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"I'm leaving San Francisco," announced George over the next Sunday breakfast.

The table was surrounded once more, but Silky and Susie were setting up the home on Nob Hill while Eleanor and her daughters had indeed returned to their home with promises to visit Silky often. Heyes sat at the head of the table, George sat on his right followed by Wheat and Kyle. Kid sat in his accustomed seat. Harry, Lobo and Preacher sat on the left side of the table.

"What?" asked Heyes.

"Where are you going?" asked Kid.

"Denver first, I want to see Clem," answered George. "Will one of you take me to the train station?"

A clamor of male voices offered to be of assistance. George's eyes widened at the gallant response.

"Kid and I will take you," assured Heyes.

"Silky sent the Berliner back to Chicago, and he's using his regular coach every day running around town getting things for his new home. We ain't taking that ferry boat again are we?" asked Kid. "I've had enough water to last me a while!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Ninety-five degrees in the shade," grumbled Kid on Tuesday as he hugged George goodbye. "You couldn't have decided to leave on a cooler day?"

George unfolded her fan and waved it in front of her face. The ferry whistle tooted a last boarding call.

"There hasn't been a cooler day since you came to San Francisco," smirked George, "I blame you both for the heat wave."

"Kid," nodded Heyes in the direction of the waiting gang, "try and keep them outta trouble while I'm gone."

"I been tryin'," protested Kid. "It ain't easy ya know!"

Heyes offered George his arm. The pair walked up the gangplank to the east bound ferry.

"You don't get seasick, do you George?" asked Heyes.

"Not as long as I'm on the bow," answered the dark haired woman.

The ride across the bay was smoother than the one Heyes had taken with Kid in early April. The brisk wind ruffled George's neatly coifed hair, sending dark curlicues flying.

"Why are you really leaving San Francisco George?" asked Heyes quietly.

"I don't want to spend my life working cons," sighed George. She leaned her elbows on the railing and stared into the churning water. "I want to make an honest living doing something I really enjoy."

"Like what?"

Heyes was happy he and Kid were making a living. An honest living doing something they really enjoyed was a dream that he thought might be beyond reach.

"I haven't decided yet," answered George. "But I'll figure out something, I always do."

The ferry slowed as they approached the Oakland shore. Paddlewheels strained against the rush of water, splashing white foam on blue green swells.

"And I want to find someone that cares enough about me to jump in after me if he thought I was drowning," added George.

"Huh?" asked Heyes. "What are you talking about? I care!"

The blast of the horn drowned out the rest of his words. George shook her head in response pointing to her ears. The gangplank thumped against the deck and they were surrounded by a crowd of passengers eager to disembark. In the bustle of getting George's luggage, it wasn't until they reached the train station that they had a chance to speak again.

"I guess this is goodbye," smiled George as the porter took her luggage.

She held a slim gloved hand out towards Heyes. He raised her hand to his lips, dark brown eyes gazing into hers.

"George, you should know, there are only a few people in the world that I would jump in after, especially with my boots on," declared Heyes. "And you're one of them."

"Really?" asked George with a light teasing tone. "What rare company am I in? Who are the others?"

"Kid," answered Heyes, "Clem, Silky, Lom…"

"Lom?" asked George. "Who's Lom? And what about your gang? Wheat, Kyle, Preacher, Lobo and Harry?"

"Lom's a friend," answered Heyes. With a smirk, he added, "I'd take my boots off before I jumped in after Wheat, Kyle, Preacher or Lobo. They mighta jumped in on purpose. And Harry ain't part of the gang really, him I might try to drown."

Heyes started to bring her hand to his lips, but George moved and grasped his head with both hands, bringing his lips down to meet hers. As before, the kiss was unexpected, and for a moment Heyes flailed as he had done in the Palace corridor, but the warmth of her touch brought his hands to her hips as she deepened the kiss. As suddenly as the kiss had started, it ended.

"Not bad," assessed George with a smirk.

"What was that for?" blurted out Heyes.

"So you know what you're missing," chuckled George as she turned to board the train.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Thursday the fifteenth of June, 1876," read the ticket taker with the held out at arm's length. The man sniffed before drawing his arm closer. He squinted at the tiny writing. "Eleven o'clock."

"Yes, two of us," nodded Heyes.

The conniving man pushed wire rimmed glass spectacles up on his nose. Heyes wore his black suit with a heavily starched white shirt and stiff collar, hoping to be taken for a banker. Kid was dressed more casually, a brown vest over his dusky red drawstring shirt, blue riveted trousers, his hat pulled low.

"We've been anxiously awaiting the Pierce and Hamilton expo," explained Heyes in a conciliatory manner.

"Ain't we all," replied the attendant. A flurry of stamping tickets was followed by the lifting of a red velvet rope. "This way, you're in tour group B."

The ticket taker refastened the velvet rope and turned back to the waiting people behind them.

"Next tour starts at twelve o'clock…"

Inside the huge exhibition hall, a guide beckoned them forward. They joined an elderly couple from Oakland, a banker from Sacramento, and the office manager of Sacramento City Hall.

"This way," urged the guide. The eager young man began his spiel. "On your right, you'll see how our founder got his start…"

Four booths later, they were standing in front of the shining black Pierce and Hamilton 1876. As the tour guide droned on, a young man with wire rimmed spectacles dutifully demonstrated the features of the latest model. He opened the door, pulled off the cover to reveal the internal workings, pulled out trays and pointed and gestured to all the wonderments on display.

"And moving right along…," urged the guide.

The other four members of tour group B hurried after the guide. Kid caught Heyes eye. The safe cracker nodded. Kid's long legs sauntered onward to the next exhibit, while Heyes turned back to the demonstrator. The bespectacled Easterner neatly returned the display pieces back to their original location. The calculating dark haired man let out a low whistle. Startled, the Pierce and Hamilton representative looked up.

"May I help you?"

"Hoowee," exclaimed Heyes. He raked his fingers across his head, sending dark strands of hair every which way. "Now don't that beat all!"

Heyes held his hand forward.

"Lemme shake your hand," urged Heyes.

The demonstrator extended his hand and gave a shaky smile as his arm was pumped up and down in Heyes' enthusiastic grip.

"O'Malley's the name. I've seen the Pierce and Hamilton 1875 before, Uncle Leroy's bank in Casper has one," declared Heyes. "I didn't think it was possible to improve that safe, but you've done it!"

The praise brought a genuine smile to the demonstrator's face.

"Can I just get a closer look," beseeched Heyes. He squinted and gestured to his own spectacles. "I really need to get new glasses."

The Pierce and Hamilton employee moved the rope barrier and beckoned. Heyes stepped forward and crouched before the huge black and gilt trimmed safe. The young man began his spiel as Heyes began his search. Long, slender fingers probed the edges of the casing. Heyes leaned against the door, pressing his ear to the cool metal, trying not to listen to the enthusiastic voice praising the latest and greatest improvements. He twisted the dial.

"… alloy… welded… steel plated…"

Click. Heyes' dark brown eyes popped open. He pulled the door open, hardly noticing the startled silence of the man at his side. The Pierce and Hamilton man reached past Heyes and removed the back door cover, revealing the inner workings of the dial.

"Usually I open the safe," informed the demonstrator. "How did you…"

Oblivious to the man's voice, Heyes smiled in delight to see the machine assembly.

"A burr," murmured Heyes softly. "There's a tiny burr on the largest cogwheel, it catches."

"Oh! You're right!"

The impressed exclamation brought Heyes back to the moment at hand. The tiny click he heard in Casper was a design flaw, and he'd just told the Pierce and Hamilton representative about it. The bespectacled man picked up a pad of paper and started writing.

"What are you doing? Are you taking notes?" demanded Heyes.

"Yes Sir! Thank you Mr. O'Malley," nodded the Pierce and Hamilton man. "I'll see the engineering department is apprised of your discovery."

"You really don't…"

"We'll get that little noisemaker fixed," declared the demonstrator. "You can rest assured, we won't have any machine burrs on our next model!"

Heyes' shoulders dropped. His lips curled up in an unhappy semblance of a smile.

"Really?" asked Heyes. "And how long do you think it will take to get the revised model into production?"

"The 1877 models are already in production," sighed the Pierce and Hamilton demonstrator. "The earliest we can get this design change implemented will be the 1878 Pierce and Hamilton models."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Heyes," called Kid.

Kid leaned against the exhibition hall, one booted foot pressed against the shadowed brick wall. The heat wave had finally broken, but shade in late June was still welcome. The lithe Kansan hotfooted it down the granite steps to his partner.

"Did you see the insides of the Pierce and Hamilton?" asked Kid.

"Yeah," groused Heyes, "for all the good it's gonna do."

"What do you mean?" asked Kid. "What's wrong?"

The tall blond pushed off the wall, listening intently as Heyes began to explain. Blue eyes widened as Kid listened. For once, Heyes was straight to the point.

"You found out how to open the new safe," repeated Kid, his voice rising with incredulity, "and then you told the fella how you did it?"

"I didn't know he was listening," groused Heyes. "They're gonna revise the tumbler mechanism! By the time the 1878 models are in production, they'll be totally silent!"

There was a momentary silence.

"Well there's only one thing to do," declared Kid. "You've got a year and a half to figure out how to break into a safe with a silent tumbler mechanism."

"It can't be done!"

"You ain't done it yet," encouraged Kid.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Later that afternoon, Heyes pulled his carpet bag out from beneath the bed in the room he shared with his partner.

"What are you doing?" asked Kid.

"Packing," answered Heyes. "We've seen the expo, now it's time to go back to Wyoming."

"I thought you wanted to stay here?" questioned the young shootist.

"Nah," replied Heyes in a dismissive tone. "I can't stay in a town that doesn't even have a public library."

"Not yet," retorted Kid. "If you'd gone with me to some of those highfaluting society dinners, you'd know Mr. Hallidie and some folks is planning on getting a library started here soon."

"Mr. Hallidie?"

"He's the fella that makes them railcars on Clay Street," answered Kid. "There will be a library here in San Francisco soon, so don't leave just because the city don't have a library yet."

"Kid," replied Heyes stepping close enough to clap his partner on the shoulders, "you know that ain't why I'm leaving San Francisco. Right?"

"Why then?" demanded Kid.

"You were right, San Francisco ain't a safe place to live," dissembled Heyes.

"Nowhere is safe, Heyes," replied Kid. "Not ever."

"The closest thing to safety we have is with each other," objected the genius.

"You're dreamin' Heyes," laughed Kid. "Now, tell me what's the real reason you're leaving San Francisco?"

"I figure it might be the only way to get you to shave off that fuzz on your face," smirked Heyes.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"You ain't stayin' to see the Centennial celebration?" asked Silky later that evening. The three men sat in his parlor, a decanter of good Irish whisky and three small glasses on the desk before him. "We're gonna have the best fireworks ever!"

"No," answered Heyes. "We've already started packing."

"Packin'? Already?" squawked Silky. "Are you boys fixin' to leave tomorrow?"

Kid and Heyes both nodded.

"You're gonna take them fella's with you," huffed Silky. "Ain't ya?"

"Aw Silky," teased Heyes, "I think Wheat's really beginnin' to like it here."

"And Kyle's gonna stay if Wheat stays," added Kid with a smirk.

"Boys you gotta make sure they all leave," bargained Silky. "Including Harry Wagener."

"Harry Wagener?" exclaimed Kid. The partners looked at each other in dismay. "You want us to take him too?"

"Silky," schmoozed Heyes, he leaned forward. "We'd love to help you out, really we would, but if you want us to take Harry out of San Francisco, it's gonna cost more. A lot more."

"Boys, you gotta take him too," insisted Silky. "And I'd be glad to pay ya, but with fixin' up the new place, cash flow is just a little tight right now. I'm gonna have to owe it to you. "

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"I've got saddle sores on top of saddle sores," complained Harry two weeks later. "Why didn't we take a buggy?"

"It's a trail ride," snapped Wheat before Heyes could respond. "Do you really think a buggy would make this grade?"

"You can get some liniment when we reach Carson City," added Lobo.

Heyes slowed his horse to a walk, letting the others ride ahead. The last member of the gang reached him and Heyes jiggled the reins, keeping pace with Kid's new gelding.

"You know," murmured Heyes, "I think working on their own these past few months was a good learning experience for the boys."

Kid snorted in disbelief.

"You think so?" asked Kid. "You don't know how many times I've already had to tell Kyle not to let Harry get his hands on any dynamite."

"What does Harry want with dynamite?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"We missed the fireworks," pouted Kyle.

"That short cut Harry told us about wasn't too short now, was it?" grumbled Wheat.

Heyes leaned against the bar. He smiled at the bartender and laid more coins on the bar.

"Another round for the boys," the dimpled man requested with a gesture to the men alongside him.

"Missed more than one kinda fireworks," muttered Kid.

The shootist pushed the week old _Cheyenne Daily Leader_ towards Heyes. The paper dated the sixth of July carried one of the first articles about the disastrous cavalry campaign in Montana. _General Custer's Command Slaughtered Like Sheep!_

"And what was them folks supposed to do? Just lay down and die?" grumbled Kid. "Nobody wins when there's a war."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"His wild schemes are gonna get us all killed," warned Kid two weeks later.

"It wasn't his fault the bridge was washed out," argued Heyes.

He pounded the hard pillow in an effort to fluff it some. The hotel in Reno was noisy, the bed was hard and the pillows harder.

"And it wasn't Harry's fault them horses stampeded in San Francisco," declared Kid. "It ain't never his fault, but somehow things keep happening whenever he's around."

Pounding on their door stopped the conversation. Kid pulled his pistol and stood beside the door while Heyes opened it. Preacher stumbled in.

"Heyes!" cried Preacher, "You gotta do something! Harry's talking about blowing up the Denver Mint!"

"He's been talking about that ever since we left San Francisco," reminded Heyes.

"But this time he's tellin' the whole bar his plan!" howled Preacher. "And he's saying we're part of his gang!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes gave the porter a twenty dollar gold piece.

"Our friend here had a bit too much to drink," explained Heyes as Kid pinned the ticket to Wichita on the unconscious Harry's lapel. "It might be better for the rest of your passengers if you let him sleep it off in the baggage car."

"It won't be the first time someone's slept in the baggage car," snorted the porter.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Kid Curry, Hannibal Heyes and the Devil's Hole Gang rode into Wildwood the last day of September, tired and hungry, carrying the haul from the bank at Rock Springs. The bartender greeted them, and let them have their usual rooms above the saloon.

"Town seems kinda quiet," murmured Heyes as he signed the register under the name Rembacker.

"Without you boys running back and forth," agreed the bartender, "this town might become a regular ghost town."

"We're not stayin' long," reminded Heyes. "Just gotta get supplies for the winter and check on a friend."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Trees sure do look purty," admired Kyle.

The yellow aspens did look pretty thought Heyes as he led the gang and loaded pack mules up the ridge towards Devil's Hole. He stopped in surprise seeing the smoke curling out of the chimney of the leader's cabin. The cabin he and Kid shared. He hadn't thought Clarence would intrude on their space while they were gone. Kyle, Wheat, Lobo, Preacher and finally Kid joined Heyes on the crest.

"That ain't Clarence," declared Kid as he watched a woman walk across the open space between the leader's cabin and the bunkhouse.

"Let's just see who Clarence has brought here," urged Heyes.

He jiggled the reins and started down the slope to the hideout. The barn door slammed. Clarence came hurrying out to meet them. Two children peeked over the edge of the watering trough. The dark haired woman they had first seen and two more peered out from the bunkhouse. An older woman, dressed in fringed deerskin, and a passel of children came out onto the porch of the leader's cabin.

"Clarence," greeted Heyes with a tight smile. He pointed to the cabin. "It appears the cabin is occupied."

"The bunkhouse is full too," acknowledged Clarence. "I've been sleeping in the barn."

"Why?"

"I know you said we ain't supposed to have women here," began Clarence, "but…

"Indians are supposed to be on the government reservation," stated Heyes.

"Yeah..."

"They're not."

"No," answered Clarence. With a gesture towards the matriarch of the group, he explained. "Her husband said he'd be back to get them soon. He needs enough horses and supplies to get them all to Canada. They just need a safe place to stay for a little while."

"They're breaking the law," stated Heyes.

"I reckon," agreed Clarence with a nervous gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

"That means they aren't women and children," declared Heyes. A dimpled grin spread across his face. "They're outlaws, just like us."

"Does that mean they can stay?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

On the last day of October, Heyes woke up to a cold clear morning. He looked out the barn door to see a dusting of snow on the ground. The door to the leader's cabin banged against the wall.

"They're gone," realized Heyes. He turned to shake his partner. Hay stuck in the curly blond hair.

"Unh," grunted Kid. Blue eyes blinked open. Kid yawned and stretched his arms over head, shivering in the morning chill.

"Kid, the lady outlaws are gone."

"Does that mean I get my bed back?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

A/N2: More information about the centennial train may be found: The Jarrett-Palmer Express of 1876, Coast to Coast in Eighty-Three Hours, by J. C. Ladenheim, Harvest Books, 2008.


End file.
